


The Truth is Right Here

by beautifulcheat (Katalyst), ladynox



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Convict Michael Guerin, F/M, FBI Agent Alex Manes, FBI Agent Maria DeLuca, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Malexa endgame, Michael Guerin doesn't have paranormal experiences he IS a paranormal experience, Multi, Paranormal Investigators, Supernatural Elements, x-files/white collar fusion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:40:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29111712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katalyst/pseuds/beautifulcheat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladynox/pseuds/ladynox
Summary: Maria Deluca and Alex Manes had been partners, both in the X-Files department and in marriage, for years. They each had their own reasons to search for the truth, and it just made sense to do it together.Michael Guerin was just a con trying to keep his head down, serve his time, and not attract the wrong type of attention.He definitely had not bargained on being loaned out to a couple of alien hunters.
Relationships: Liz Ortecho/Kyle Valenti, Maria DeLuca/Michael Guerin, Maria DeLuca/Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 67
Kudos: 43





	1. Inmate #20605-051: Michael Guerin

If someone’d told 18-year-old Alex Manes that his life would fall out this way, he probably would’ve punched them in the face. Once he stopped laughing.

If they’d told him he’d end up married to Maria DeLuca, he would have accused them of being homophobic. If they’d told him he’d end up heading up an entire division of the FBI with said wife, and that that division would be just the two of them, hunting for UFOs, he would have seriously considered committing them.

“Hey babe.” Maria leaned down over the back of their sofa to kiss his hair, dropping a file on his stomach.

Alex jumped a bit. He’d been deep in a reddit hole, combing through stories about strange lights in a Virginia forest, trying to decide if it was a hoax, natural phenomenon, or something worth a trip out there. He rubbed his hands over his face, looked up at her with a soft smile.

Okay maybe this was not anything he expected his life to be, but god, he couldn’t complain.

“What’s this?” he asked, setting the laptop aside and shifting to sit up properly.

Maria folded her arms on the back of the sofa. “A person of interest.” 

“What?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow at her. What did that even mean, person of interest? They weren’t exactly the crime-solving types.

“Look at the file.” Maria ruffled his hair lightly. “Chinese for dinner?”

“Yeah, sure.” He nodded. “Make mine--”

“Extra spicy, I know.” Maria laughed, stepping away. Alex smiled to himself. A decade of marriage and she knew him better than ever.

He flipped open the file, eyes landing on the prominent mugshot. Black and white and grainy but it didn’t hide that he was _hot_. Riotous curls, half-lidded eyes, and a gorgeous smirk that Alex couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to kiss away. “Maria, are you trying to hook your husband up with a criminal?” He called out despite the fact that she was on the phone, laughing and ducking as she threw a lime from the kitchen at him.

She covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “Don’t think with your dick, Alex. Read it.”

Alex laughed and settled in to actually read.

The next thing he knew, Maria was nudging him with a box of takeout and a beer - sans lime.

He looked up at her, distractedly taking it. “This is...”

“I know, right?” She settled on the couch next to him, cross-legged, digging into her sweet and sour chicken with chopsticks. “Who makes a _career_ of stealing from UFO museums and military storage facilities?”

Alex stole one of hers, popping it into his mouth over her protests. “I mean. It’s _weird_ , for sure, but…” 

“But nothing. This guy? The stuff he’s grabbed? Look at that list. Line after line of highly classified materials. Most of this stuff we’re not even allowed to know about. It’s all affiliated with Project Sign, Project Grudge, Project Blue Book. He’s gotten closer than we have in the last five years. And they never recovered it. Any of it.” 

Alex chewed on his lip. “Who says he still has any of it?”

Maria shrugged. “Who’s to say he doesn’t?”

Alex smiled, still looking over the file but leaning against her shoulder, digging into his own food, here and there stealing off Maria’s food too to contrast with the pleasing burn of his own, until she laughed and started threatening him with her chopsticks and elbowing him. 

“Stop it, you’re making mine spicy!”

He was lucky. So lucky that Maria had been okay with a quickie town hall wedding to her gay best friend when he enlisted, so that she could be his emergency contact instead of his asshole father -- and that somehow that arrangement had kept working for them both. Lucky that, when he had been digging for dirt on Jesse Manes and had found that his father was apparently obsessed with _literal actual aliens_ , Maria had been all-in on trying to dig up evidence of the government’s (and by extension, Jesse Manes’) coverups and crimes. Lucky that she’d come up with the plan of enlisting in the National Guard to make it easier for them both to apply to the FBI together. And lucky that the FBI had let them take over this long-defunct department together. Alex was always sure that that luck wasn’t going to hold forever.

“Yeah,” Alex said, slowly. “But even if he does, he’s not going to have any incentive to just hand it over.”

Maria chewed on the end of a chopstick, thoughtful. “You know the FBI has a work release program for cons?”

Alex snorted. “Yeah, but what does that have to do with us?”

“His skill set and knowledge base _is_ relevant?” Maria said slowly, slyly. “Freedom is pretty convincing.”

“Work release isn’t freedom.” Alex pointed out. “Even _if_ we could get that approved -- and that’s a _big_ if -- we’d be responsible for babysitting him.” 

“Ok, fine work isn’t freedom but not being in prison is the next best thing,” Maria said. “For an ankle bracelet and some information, he can have real food and sleep on a real bed. After two years on a five year term, that could sound pretty convincing.” 

Alex couldn’t argue with that. “I guess there’s no harm in talking to him,” he said, setting his food aside and wrapping an arm around her. “File the paperwork, just in case. 99% it’ll get shredded.” 

“Hey,” she said softly, snuggling against him. “We’ve had worse odds, before.”

* * *

Two days later, they were pulling up to the Penitentiary of New Mexico. 

“You know this place is supposed to be super haunted?” Maria asked, with a grin, as they got out of the car and she smoothed her suit - black, pricy, well-tailored to all her curves. A neckline that was definitely _not_ standard FBI issue. No one seemed to mind though - Maria had style. 

“Oh shut up.” He groaned. He probably shouldn’t be slightly ashamed of believing in ghosts, considering that they were alien hunters. And he didn’t _actually_ believe in them. He was just the pragmatic sort, and on the off chance they did exist, he’d prefer not to piss them off. It made perfect sense.

Maria laughed, stopping him before they could walk in to straighten his tie, which Alex had tugged loose during the car ride. “I’ll protect you.”

“I don’t need protecting,” he grumbled a bit. 

Maria smiled, and pecked his cheek. “Not even from Guerin’s bedroom eyes?” 

He gasped, swatted her hands. “Oh stop it.” 

Maria chuckled and let him go. “Just keep your eyes on the prize, babe.” 

“I could say the same to you,” Alex protested, heading for the door. After all, the night they had decided to file the work release paperwork for Michael Guerin, they had a lengthy (and slightly drunken) conversation about how cons should not be that hot. The conversation then dissolved into speculating about all the things Guerin’s pretty mouth could do. 

She sputtered lightly. “Excuse me? I..”

“Have eyes, Maria. Keep them on the prize.” He turned it on her, and pulled the door open, holding it for her, so they could go check in and be escorted to the waiting room. 

* * *

“Hey. Guerin.” A guard knocked his baton against the bars of Michael’s cell, startling him out of yet another run-through of an escape plan. He should never have even gotten arrested, or convicted. Should have cut and run. It wasn’t like the bars and locks could actually hold him. But they’d hustled him into a real prison awfully quickly, since they suspected him of breaking into a top-secret military contracting facility and the right moment never really presented itself. 

And maybe the locks couldn’t hold him, but the guns sure gave him pause.

Besides, now that he was in the system, he couldn’t exactly have a normal life if he just walked out of prison. And there were still a couple people who needed him.

The guard knocked again, louder. “Guerin, get your ass out here.” 

Michael sighed, opening his eyes and sitting up. “Officer Meyers, something wrong?”

“Visitors.” 

Michael frowned at that. Visitors? Normally he was fine with the guards here not being the chatty sort but Michael Guerin wasn’t exactly known for having visitors. He’d warned Izzy and Max off. And besides, it wasn’t even time for visitation. He got up and stepped out of the cell, deciding not to test Meyer’s patience today. “Yeah?”

“Feds, I guess.” Meyers shrugged. “Come on.”

Michael followed after, frowning more. Feds. He had to guess that they were trying to nail him for something else, lengthen his sentence. As if five years wasn’t enough, considering the fact that he was just reacquiring his family’s stolen property. 

Not that he could use that as a line of defense. _Ah yes, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you see I can’t be convicted because I’m a literal alien and therefore the legal owner of the shit I stole._

Nope. Best-case scenario, that would have gotten him a straitjacket, worst-case? Alien autopsy.

Michael let Meyers cuff him to the table, raising an eyebrow but not protesting. It wasn’t worth it. Just another little humiliation. Par for the course, here. 

Michael closed his eyes, counted to ten. He could _feel_ the lock in the cuffs. It would only take a tiny little nudge to get them to fall open. He breathed through the urge to do so, only opening his eyes when the door opened. 

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when Meyers said Feds were here to see him. Suits, yes. But suits were normally cop-faced assholes. 

These two looked like… a generous TV interpretation of feds. Gorgeous, both of them. 

God, he’d been in jail far too damned long. 

“Agents,” he drawled as they both took seats on the other side of the table. 

They glanced at each other, briefly, as if deciding in the moment how to approach him. Good cop bad cop? Pride and ego?

Michael sat back, relaxed as much as the cuffs would allow. All he had to do was relax, breathe, and not give them anything. Easy.

“Mr. Guerin,” the woman started, no-nonsense, with a smile that was probably meant to disarm him, but it was one he recognized all too well. She was already trying to hustle him. If he weren’t cuffed to a table he probably would have respected the effort. Might have even let her do it, considering the fact that she was wearing the hell out of that suit... _don’t let your eyes wander, Guerin_ , he reminded himself, sternly, just in time to tune into her introductions. “It’s good to meet you. I’m Agent DeLuca. This is my partner Agent Manes.” 

“Can I help you?” God, just skip to the song already.

“Well, we’re certainly hoping so,” she said, smiling just a bit brighter. “We’ve been reviewing your file. It’s quite interesting. We believe you have a... skillset that would be relevant. We’d like to offer you a job as a criminal consultant.” 

Michael blinked, honestly taken by surprise. “I’m sorry you want to… what, be my FBI pen pals?”

“Actually, no. We’re thinking of something a little more mutually beneficial.” _Damnit Michael, don’t read into that_ … he tried to focus on anything other than the curve of her mouth, settled for the cuffs around his wrists. They were just a little too tight. He wasn’t sure if that was helping or not, honestly. “We’d like you to work with us. On the outside.” 

That took a moment to sink in, but once it did he was even more confused. He didn’t know what angle he was expecting, but this definitely wasn’t it. “I’m sorry, you’re offering me… work release?” Michael just _knew_ there was more to this. But it was hard to pin down what exactly. It wasn’t like he had been working for the mob or a drug cartel or anything that the FBI would consider useful, really.

“There’d be conditions, of course.” Manes finally spoke up. Michael tried to ignore that he had one of the sexiest goddamned voices he’d ever heard. That voice was going to haunt his dreams for months, along with Manes’ messy dark hair and intense dark eyes. He looked at Michael like he wanted to take him apart. Michael knew, logically, that it had nothing to do with sex but it would… in his dreams, it definitely would. 

“Oh of _course_ ,” Michael scoffed. 

Manes raised an eyebrow at him, it spoke volumes, and Michael visibly bristled. But Manes didn’t seem to care, shifting his gaze towards his partner. Their eyes met again, and if Michael didn’t know any better, he’d swear they were communicating psychically.

Something more than partners, then? His eyes fell to the wedding rings on their fingers. They looked like they matched. 

Great. He was never, ever getting _that_ picture out of his head, was he? 

“Mr. Guerin,” DeLuca said, grabbing Michael’s attention. “We would urge you to take this proposal into consideration.” She pulled out a few pages from a folder and slid them over to him. “For the price of your expertise--”  
  
“Yeah see that’s the part that doesn’t make any sense to me,” Michael said, leaning on his elbows and staring at them. _He_ knew he was a genius. But these two had no reason to suspect that he was anything other than an (admittedly good) thief. Maybe they knew he got decent grades in school, maybe they even knew he tested high enough on a high school IQ test that he’d been accused of cheating and spent two weeks suspended while they tried to prove it. That was hardly a qualification for the FBI. “You two have an air of competence and you’ve read my record, so you know what I’m in here for.” 

“Oh we’re well aware. Let’s see.” She pulled another paper out of the file. “They actually convicted you of the theft of the UFO museum down in Roswell -- pretty small time. But you’ve been implicated in at least a dozen other thefts, including top-secret military facilities.” DeLuca looked at him, a little challenge in her eyes. Trying to get him to brag, apparently.

“Allegedly.” Michael was tense and trying not to show it. Did they want a confession? Did they want him to lead them to his stash? Wasn’t gonna happen.

“Let’s just say your resume is impressive. We don’t often see people with this level of experience with…” she trailed off.

“The supernatural?” He filled in, sarcastically. 

“Unexplained phenomenon,” she corrected, “which happens to be our area of expertise.” 

Michael’s eyes widened. Shit. This wasn’t just about them scraping the bottom of the barrel, was it? To cover, he turned to look at the guard. “Did you guys check to make sure their credentials were legit?” 

Meyers, the asshole, was completely stone faced. As always. Didn’t even look at him. Michael turned back to the two agents. 

“So you’re the Men in Black?” He continued and glanced at DeLuca. “Always thought the name was a little sexist by the way.”  
  
“We’re the FBI, Guerin,” DeLuca said dryly. “Read over the documents. Our proposal is legitimate and I would urge you to consider it seriously. Unless you want to continue to waste that high IQ of yours--” oh, they _did_ know about that “--on making licence plates for another two and half years.” 

Michael clenched his jaw, looked down at the cuffs on his wrists. One _tiny_ little nudge. They were getting up. 

“Fine,” he said, tightly. “I’m in.” He might be jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire, but he was real fucking sick of the frying pan. At least they had beer on the outside.

* * *

It took a few weeks, almost a month before the paperwork went through. Time dragged through most of it, but all of a sudden he was out, his head practically spinning. 

DeLuca and Manes had set Michael up in some kind of group home that was _way_ too much like one of his foster homes to be at all comfortable. When he’d complained, they’d told him that he had a criminally small housing stipend and that was the best they could do on that budget, and if he could find something within the 20 mile radius of the tracking anklet that was part of his deal, he should take it.

Not the answer he was looking for but at least they weren’t forcing him to stay at the home, which had actually been a surprise. He’d met some shit people in law enforcement. 

By the next day he’d found a trailer park that was right at the edge of the anklet's radius. The place wasn’t terrible. Plenty of trees, roomy lots. Enough room to build out a deck, string up some lights. He’d make it homey. Once Isobel got here with his actual home.

He leaned against the fence to the lot he rented, waiting. It was a good half hour before he heard a familiar rumble, saw his old, faded pickup, airstream in tow. Just the sight of him had him feeling misty eyed. It wasn’t a joke either. That was home. He wasn’t sure what this whole work release program had in store for him, but fuck was it nice to see home. 

And his sister.

“Iz.” Michael felt the knot in his stomach loosen as she slid out of the truck, flipping her hair back a bit. 

“Michael!” She was running, launching herself into him, squeezing him tightly, hand cupping the back of his head. Michael let himself melt into the hug, burying his face into her shoulder. Two and a half years. Sure, he’d gone longer between seeing her but not since they were kids. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Missed you,” he got out, softly. Let her hug him for several long minutes before they both drew back. 

“Are you okay?” She was smoothing his hair back. Normally he’d resent the fussing, but...

“Am now,” he said, smiling a bit. “Thanks for coming up.”

“You owe me so much,” she said, laughing. “That thing is a pain in the ass to tow.”

“Come on, it’s only three hours up from Roswell.” He grinned. 

“Three painful hours,” Isobel said. She was still touching him, smoothing her hands down his shoulders and arms, or cupping his face, stroking his hair. 

He smiled, letting her pet him -- uncharacteristic from him, granted, but he’d missed being touched so much (rough and desperate quickies in the more “secluded” places of the prison did not count), missed that simple warmth from the touch of a loved one. “Grabbed some beer. We could order pizza? Is still Max coming to pick you up?” 

The plan had been for Izzy to drive up with his truck and trailer. Max would come up the next day to spend the weekend with Michael, since he couldn’t get that Friday off, and drive Isobel back home. 

“Still coming up, yeah. He wants to see you.” Isobel hesitated, trailed off. It felt a little evasive, and Michael immediately knew something was up. 

“Iz?” 

She let out a breath. “I was thinking of staying up here in Albuquerque for a while. At least till you're settled in.”

“You’re not just here to keep an eye on me,” he said, suspiciously.

Isobel exhaled, pulled away. “Lets get those beers first.” 

Michael frowned, mind running through all the possible issues. Gotta be something personal, he reasoned. Something not alien related. Worried and frustrated, he scrubbed a hand through his hair and went to grab the beer without pressing, letting Iz unlock the Airstream. 

“Smells in here,” she said, wrinkling her nose as they both climbed in.  
  
“Yeah, well, no one emptied the fridge when I enrolled in con college.” Michael shrugged, grabbing a trash bag from under the sink and going to empty everything out of it. It did reek. 

“Ugh, I’m gonna puke,” Isobel said, exaggerated. Michael rolled his eyes, and used his powers to slide the windows open for her -- god, that felt _good_. It was like a really good stretch after sitting for a long time. So he used his abilities again, clearing out the spoiled and rotted contents of his fridge. Opening cabinets where a lump of mold that was once a loaf of bread floated into the trash. After so damn long pretending to be human, it felt good to be himself. 

A half hour later, and the spoiled food was cleaned up and the airstream was more-or-less sanitized and aired out. Izzy had stopped whining so much about it and had ordered pizza for them both. 

“My bunker?” He asked, once they’d demolished a pizza and a half between them. 

“Still under a pile of junkyard trash. Secrets are safe.” She reassured him, fingers sliding into his hair again. “That prison shampoo did you no favors, I’ll get you some new stuff.”  
  
Michael shook his head a little, taking a swig of his beer. “My hair’s fine. Why are you thinking of staying here? Don’t you have the whole American Dream down in Roswell, picket fence and all?” 

She chewed her lip a little. “Not exactly.” 

Michael frowned, immediately on edge, protective. “What’s going on?” 

“Things got weird. With Noah.” Isobel tucked her hair back a bit, a little nervous tic.

Michael was immediately bristling. He had never cared for Noah. He was too old for one, seeming to have swooped in out of nowhere half way through college like some kind of creepy vulture, and two… well there wasn’t really a two but there was just something _wrong_ about Noah. Something that didn’t sit well with Max or Michael. 

They had both been privately dismayed when she accepted his proposal. 

“What happened?” He frowned, ready to give up his new found almost-freedom by driving down to Roswell and kicking Noah’s ass if he so much as--

Izzy immediately reached to squeeze his arm, soothing him. “Nothing dramatic. I just decided that I wanted to spend a bit of time on my own. And with my favorite trailer trash.” 

Michael groaned, shoving her lightly, half-heartedly. But he didn’t believe her. Not by a long shot. He’d have to wait though. Pushing would make her turn right around, head back to Roswell and Noah’s arms. So he’d wait and hope that when Max showed up, he’d have more details. 

“Can I see the lojack?” Izzy asked, nodding at his leg.

Michael groaned, and shifted to tug his jeans up, showing her the tracking anklet. “Never gonna be able to wear boots with this thing.” 

She laughed. “You are so predictable.” 

“I don’t wanna buy new shoes!” He protested. “Do you know how much I made making license plates? It’s criminal. Legalized slavery.” 

Izzy rolled her eyes. “Surprised you haven’t picked it.”

Michael made a face. The prison locks had been basic. This thing? Not so much. “Can’t. Requires a digital key. The feds are pretty serious about me staying on leash.”

“So, what are they like?” she asked after a minute. “Your new handlers.”

Michael hummed. “Haven’t really gotten a good read on them. Weird, I guess.” He bit his tongue on the ‘smokin hot’ observation. 

“Weird?” Isobel asked.  
  
“They head the FBI supernatural division. The FBI _has_ a division for the supernatural,” Michael explained.

“Yeah so does the Air Force,” Isobel replied, frowning. “It’s why you have that fancy new piece of jewelry.” She pointed at the anklet peeking out from under Michael’s jeans. Isobel and Max had implored Michael, begged him even, to leave well enough alone. Not to fuck with the military. Leave the past in the past. Just try to live a normal life. 

As if Michael ever knew what the fuck that was. 

At least they didn’t say _I told you so_ when he was arrested. Though they hadn’t gotten a chance to say much of anything, since Michael had warned them off, told them not to visit, on the off chance that they figured out what he was. That was the shit that kept him up at night, the thought that he might get sick or get himself stabbed and a prison doctor would stumble on the discovery of the century.

“Fair,” Michael said. “But it’s still weird you know? They’re clearly interested in what I might have taken from the Air Force. But I gotta wonder if the Air Force has done anything to get on the FBI’s radar.”  
  
Isobel took a pull from her beer, nodding. “Be careful, Michael.” If Michael fell from the tightrope he was walking, he might take Isobel and Max with him this time. And of course he knew that. 

“Hey, I’m always careful,” he protested. 

She snorted. “If that were true, we wouldn’t be in a city I still have trouble spelling, drinking to your indentured servitude to the FBI.”

“You’re such a ray of sunshine.”

“I am a delight,” she agreed, and got up to get them another round of beers.

* * *

Finding out Guerin had found a new place in the span of a day had been somewhere between amusing and annoying. On the one hand, the boy worked fast, and Maria, having a healthy appreciation for hustle, couldn’t fault him. On the other, they were gonna get a late start to their day because of him. Why did he have to move all the way across town?

“This the place?” Alex asked as they approached the RV park. 

“Yup.” Maria nodded, glancing at Michael’s note. “Lot 58. Says to look for an airstream.” 

Soon enough they were pulling up in front of said trailer, sliding out of the car. Maria went to knock on the door. 

“He better not be asleep,” Alex said under his breath as they waited, taking a drink of his tumbler full of strong, black coffee. Even after all that military, Alex was decidedly not a morning person, which meant that he resented anyone who was able to sleep in past him.

A minute later, Guerin yanked the door open. His hair was in damp disarray, and he was only in a pair of practically painted-on, worn jeans that looked ridiculously soft. 

“Guerin.” She forced herself to shift her gaze, because Guerin’s bare chest and stomach were just… right there, and she wasn’t in the mood to be flustered right now. Her eyes fell on a woman, long blonde hair in a tousled braid, holding coffee. Thankfully fully dressed. Maria arched an eyebrow. 

“Are we interrupting something?” She asked, dryly. Guerin worked _very_ fast, apparently. 

“Gross,” he said, shaking his head slowly, as if ashamed of her for even suggesting it. “Gimme a minute to grab a shirt.” 

“Grab a bag of clothes, while you’re at it. We’re gonna be on the road for a couple days,” Maria called after him.

“Hi.” The woman was standing, going to shake Maria’s hand. “I’m Bella. Michael’s sister.” 

Well, that explained the disgust. Maria kept her expression politely neutral but her instincts told her something was off about this woman. She was… lying. 

“I don’t remember a sister in Guerin’s file,” Alex said between sips of coffee.

“We’re not blood related,” “Bella” said. This time honestly.

Mara hummed, suspicious, and Alex rolled his eyes. But neither of them really cared, as long as it was just sex. After all, sex wasn’t illegal as long as Bella here wasn’t a prostitute. Which if she was, Guerin definitely couldn’t afford her. Too well dressed, for one, and definitely too hot. 

But if she was a girlfriend, why lie? 

Guerin came out a moment later in a blue plaid button down that he couldn’t be bothered to button all the way up, a backpack and a black cowboy hat.  
  
“Oh God, I thought you lost that,” Bella groaned.  
  
“You wish,” Guerin replied, handing over the backpack when Maria motioned for it. He was frowning, not enjoying his privacy being violated. One would think he’d be used to it, Maria thought as she checked the contents--toiletries and a change of clothes. Good. 

“You know,” Guerin continued, taking back the pack once Maria was satisfied with the contents. “Not having this hat with me was the worst part of prison.”  
  
“I think being in prison is the worst part of prison,” Alex said dryly. “Are you ready?” 

“Yeah.” Guerin nodded, taking a breath, looking at his so-called-sister. “Belle, you mind locking up?”

“I’ll head out, call a car. I need to get back to my hotel, anyway,” she said, grabbing a purse and heading out of the airstream with them. She turned to Guerin once more, and poked him. “Call Max,” she said, with the tone of a threat.

Guerin groaned, waving at her a bit and going to climb into the car. He seemed upset, maybe even regretful. Alex must have picked up on it because he asked, “Who’s Max?”  
  
“My brother,” he replied and Maria couldn’t pick up a shred of dishonesty from him, which was odd. This whole thing was odd. Guerin wasn’t lying, but Bella was? And from all the files on him, Guerin had no siblings. No parents. No nothing before a long string of foster families. Like he had sprang out of the Earth one day.

“So, what exactly do you two do?” Michael asked from the backseat. Maria glanced back, noting the way he was sitting in the middle of it, arms sprawled over the back of the seat. He was insufferable. “Is there a particular case we’re working on?” 

Since Maria was driving, Alex pulled out a folder from his briefcase and handed it back to Guerin. 

“Goblins?” Guerin said, incredulously. 

“Possible first contact,” Alex said. He didn’t sound hopeful but Maria knew he was. Hopeful for anything that could get him a step closer to nailing his father. “This area of Kentucky does have a history of unexplained sightings.” 

Guerin, however, just snorted. He was skimming through the file, Maria noted with a glance through the rearview mirror.  
  
“So you’re dragging me to Kentucky,” Guerin paused. “I’m sorry, wait. Not just Kentucky but the cousin fucking boonies of Kentucky over the testimony of some drunk ass yokels?”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Alex said. “Would you rather we take you back to the Penitentiary?”

“Alex,” Maria scolded. A glance through the mirror showed Guerin bristling. Not that she needed to see him to know. She could feel the wave of spiky irritation coming off him. And there was no need for that. “Guerin, the reports are from multiple people over a span of weeks. Yes, it’s in the boonies, as you call it, but it can’t all be chalked up to liquor.” 

“I’m just saying,” he started, relaxing just a little. “You’re telling me that a species that has the intelligence for interstellar travel is out in BFE and not at the Jim Beam distillery? I’m calling BS.”

“Why would they be there?”

“There is nothing else of interest on this godforsaken planet. If I were an alien, that’s where I’d be,” he said, with a smirk that felt like some kind of private joke. “Looks like whatever it is has caused some damage,” Guerin continued. “The cops don’t know what to make of it…. not that they ever do.”  
  
“Exactly,” Maria said, turning on to the highway that would lead them to the airport.  
  
“Probably just some teenagers in costumes,” Guerin said after a moment.  
  
Alex snorted, amused. “I didn’t peg you for a skeptic.” 

“You can’t possibly believe this stuff?”  
  
“You don’t?” Alex asked, glancing back at Guerin. Maria had to admit, the skepticism surprised her too. It was odd that he seemed so against the idea of aliens considering his rap sheet. 

Guerin was quiet. From the rearview mirror he seemed thoughtful. Maria hoped he was going to spill the beans, the motive for his crimes. No one could ever get that out of him. 

But in the end he just shrugged. “Are aliens real? I think so,” he said, sounding careful and guarded in a way Maria couldn’t understand. “But did these people get visited by rambunctious little green men? Unlikely. Most unexplained phenomena’s perfectly explainable if you have two brain cells to rub together.”  
  
With that said, Guerin slouched over his seat, ducking his head, his hat covering his face, while continuing to go over the file quietly, as if he were aware of Maria’s scrutiny in the rearview mirror. He probably was. 

Alex glanced at Maria, his expression curious and interested. Maria shrugged. But she felt it too. Guerin was hiding _something_.

Probably hubris to think that he’d be spilling any of his secrets the day he started to work with them, though. This was going to take some time.

Good thing they both liked a challenge.


	2. Case # X-08211955-8: Kentucky Goblins Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Case # X-08211955-8: Kentucky Goblins Incident

Geurin’s skepticism, though curious, had not made Alex feel any more confident in their decision to become consitters. Nor did Guerin’s attitude during their interview with the witnesses, once they finally got out to the scene. Guerin was leaned up against a wall, arms folded, head tilted down so he could only just see them from under the brim of that ridiculous black hat. He looked like an insolent cowboy, staring down a family which was already clearly rattled, ordering on hysterical. 

Alex tried to focus on them and ignore Guerin. “You said you saw a metal object falling from the sky. Did you ever find it in the forest?”

“No sir,” said Mrs. Andrews firmly. She was the matron of the family. A heavy set woman pushing forty. She had a hard face, but not unkind. Though currently, just like the rest of the family, she looked haggard, troubled. She kept glancing out the window, as if expecting a strange face to be there, staring back at her. 

“Even before what happened last night,” she continued. “We had no interest seeing what was out there.” 

A week ago, on the night of the very same day that Maria and Alex had watched Michael Guerin walk out of prison, in ratty old clothes that looked a little small on him, sun turning his curls into a halo, an unidentified flying object had crashed into the hills of Kentucky.    
  
Or, at least, there had been a very loud sound, almost like an explosion or major crash, depending on who was telling the story. All over Christian County police departments were finding their phones ringing off the hook with reports of an earth shaking noise, of lights… and then by the next night, of strange creatures. 

Authorities had of course found nothing. 

“Jamie Boyd from down at the Miller farmer went looking and he found some metal near the road.” One of the Andrews children called down from the top of the staircase. They had all been sent to their rooms but had been clearly listening from the upstairs    
  
“Billy that could have easily been from a car,” another small voice chided.    
  
“Nuh-uh! Jamie said it was smoking and shone all funny. Like something from another planet!”

The kids devolved into a whisper fight among themselves.

“A crash?” Maria asked, trying to refocus them.    
  
“Branch Road,” Mr. Andrews, the father, replied. “Only major road in the holler.” Alex remembered it well, since they’d taken it to get to this house. An old dirt road. Bumpy as hell. “But whatever came here last night had nothing to do with a car crash.”

Mr. Andrews’ round face looked haunted. He flexed his hands like there was still a rifle in them. Alex nodded, sympathetically. 

“Tell me what happened?” Alex instructed, gentle but firm. “Any details you remember.” He had a notepad out, and was recording on his phone, just in case.

Mrs. Andrews looked at her husband, squeezing his arm gently. Alex waited, calmly, while the couple gathered themselves. He glanced at Maria, who hadn’t said much. To the family, she just seemed to be listening, deferring to Alex. But Maria had the best interrogation skills of the two of them.    
  
However, it wasn’t uncommon for Alex to lead the interviews while Maria hung back. It depended on the situation really. Sometimes it was just better for him to lead, to let her gain intel in another fashion. Her intuition, or empathy, or whatever it was, was an ace in the hole for them. Helped them suss out lies and half truths. 

“These...  _ things _ came out of the woods,” Mrs. Andrews began. “Around midnight, more or less. First thing we noticed were their eyes, glowing an unnatural red in the trees. But they didn’t stay there long. Half dozen, give or take, came right up to the house, trying to get in…”

Mr. Andrews nodded, picking up when she trailed off. “Size of a kid, maybe three feet tall?” He held out his hand, to approximate the height. “And they had strange skinny fingers, all long and spindly--”   
  
“One longer than the other. I felt it, in my hair. Like a claw,” said one of the older boys. The children had started to creep down the stairs a bit, a half dozen faces peeking between the bannister, staring at Alex, Maria, and Guerin.   
  
“I saw it! It touched his hair!”   
  
“Is that true?” Alex asked the parents but glanced at Maria. To them, Maria was calm and attentive, quietly taking notes. But Alex could read and understand even the most minute twitch of her mouth. 

“They were reaching through the broken windows. I shot at it,” Mr. Andrews admitted. He didn’t look even remotely comfortable with the interview. But to Alex it didn’t seem like the man was lying and Maria hadn’t contradicted anything he’d said yet so Andrews must be telling the truth. Alex immediately stamped down on the tendril of excitement that came from that thought. Just cause Andrews believed it, didn’t mean it was true. “Couldn’t take the tapping anymore. They just kept  _ doing _ it, tapping and scratching at the glass and the walls…”   
  
“Maybe it was an owl? You guys have the great horned ones?” Guerin piped up, looking up from scrolling through the phone they had issued him. “They mate during this time of year and they’re aggressive right?”   
  
Mr. Andrews frowned, offended. “I’ve seen plenty of owls around here. None of them’s ever been bullet proof.”

Guerin, to his credit, did not snort, though he didn’t look convinced. And then he said what Alex was thinking but was smart enough not to say, “Can’t say I trust your skills with a gun. Especially if you were drunk?” He nodded over to a table that had more than a few empty beer bottles and a mostly-empty bottle of cheap whiskey. 

Andrews bristled. “I’ve been using guns since I was in my nappies--” 

“Mr. Andrews, my… associate may lack delicacy,” Maria said, shooting Guerin a sharp look. “But his concern is warranted. After a few drinks, I start seeing things too.”    
  
Bullshit, but Maria was always good at lying. No, at making people feel at ease. Maria had the same vibe as a priest -- no, maybe a bartender. Someone you could open up too. 

“Was the entire holler having alcohol induced hallucinations all week?” Andrews argued, shooting Guerin a surly look. “I shot one and all it did was rattle like a tin can. And besides, owls don’t glow in the dark and they definitely don’t float!”

Maria nodded, understandingly. “We believe you, Mr. Andrews.” She smiled, reassuring and sincere, and immediately feathers unruffled. “You still don’t mind if we spend the night here? Do you have family to go to?” 

Andrews nodded. “We’ll pack up and get out of your hair,” he said, nodding to his wife. They both got up, and certainly wasted no time packing up. Obviously, they were eager to get the hell away from their farm.

“I’m gonna take a look around outside. See if there’s anything obvious,” Guerin said, pushing off the wall.

Alex and Maria got a few more details before seeing the family off. When they stepped outside, Guerin was crouched under one of the windows, looking at the dirt there. “You guys got a collection kit?” He looked up, sweeping his hat off. “Microscopes? Chemistry set?”

“You’re a chemist now?” Alex asked, dryly.

He laughed. “What skillset did you think you were hiring me for exactly?” He got up. “You got it?”

“We always bring a mobile lab,” Alex said, digging a sample kit out of his bag and tossing it to Michael. “It’s enough for the basics, but if you’re looking to do anything too complex, we might have to drive back into town.”   
  
“Usually that’s my job but I’m perfectly ok with you handling it.” Maria winked at Guerin. “They said some of the creatures were on the roof, so I’m going to check up there for anything.” 

Guerin watched Maria leave and then looked at Alex. “How long have you two been working together?”    
  
“What’s it to you?” Alex asked, going to the trunk of their rental to get the bag with the mobile lab.   
  
“Just making conversation. Jeez, pull the stick out your ass, Manes.” Guerin knelt down in the dirt, scraping up some samples.   
  
Ok, Alex thought, that was fair. He sighed. “Sorry, yeah, Maria and I have known each other since we were kids.”   
  
“You’re married yeah?” Alex frowned, spinning the wedding ring on his finger a little. Guerin must have noticed them. Sharp eye on him. They didn’t advertise it, hell, Maria didn’t even take the Manes name. Though Alex couldn’t blame her -- had occasionally played with taking hers, instead. The Manes name didn’t have a lot of good associated with it.   
  
“Yeah.” Alex frowned, setting the bag down next to him.    
  
“Childhood sweethearts?”   
  
“Something like that.” Alex didn’t know how to interpret Guerin’s tone.

“Cute,” Guerin said, dryly. “Was wondering if the FBI had a department staffed exclusively with models, but you being married makes more sense.”

“How does that make more sense?” 

“Hot people tend to marry hot people.” 

So Guerin thought he was hot. Cool. No big deal.

* * *

It didn’t take long for DeLuca to return, finding nothing more than prints and some scratch marks on the roof. 

Michael settled down with the equipment and his samples. Looking up at DeLuca and Manes, briefly, as they investigated prints, arguing about dermal ridges. 

Good. They were distracted. He let out a slow breath, starting to test the samples while they were working. They didn’t need to know what he was testing for, and if they asked, he could always claim it was meth. This was meth country, right? (Who was he kidding, the whole country was meth country).

Even if DeLuca wanted to see his process, it didn’t mean revealing anything, he reminded himself, breathing slowly. He knew exactly what he was looking for. Not many people could distinguish alien compounds from phenylacetone. In fact, he was pretty damn sure he was the only person on the planet who could.

He measured out some sodium hydroxide, iodine. He’d done this test so often that muscle memory could guide him through it. Still keeping a half eye on the Feds.

They were weird. He wasn’t sure what to make of them. In the prison, DeLuca did all the talking. But today, Manes had taken over while DeLuca watched the family, with this weird, slightly unfocused look in her eyes. 

He didn’t think she was  _ uninterested _ , though. It was like she was listening, for something specific. For whatever reason he kept comparing it to trying to make out a song in a noisy supermarket. 

A few minutes later his test was done. And like he suspected - nothing properly alien here. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed, if he was being honest. 

Michael spent a couple minutes just looking through the rest of DeLuca’s mobile lab. A pretty decent selection of gear, he had to admit, though he really missed his own lab. 

“We should check the surrounding area for blood,” Manes was saying. “And Branch Road for anything extraterrestrial in nature.” 

DeLuca nodded. “Drive back into town?”

Ugh. Max was gonna have to head back to Roswell way before they got a chance to see each other, with the glacial pace these Feds were likely to work at. And, loathe as he was to admit it, he really did want to see Max. Had missed the big idiot.

He needed to speed this along, but he couldn’t exactly tell them that the site tested negative for aliens.

“You wanna take a cast of those?” He called out to DeLuca and Manes. They had plaster. “We can take it to the game commission tomorrow if the little green men don’t show themselves tonight.” Put all this nonsense to bed. 

“Might as well.” Manes nodded.

Michael got down to business, going to find the best print -- none of them were great, but he found one that was serviceable. Filling it with plaster. They  _ were _ odd prints. Maybe half the size of his hand, and just unusual looking. Michael wasn’t a biologist or anything but he couldn’t think of one common North American animal that could make prints like this, slim hand with long skinny digits, four digits. No five? Michael couldn’t tell if that one indentation was more than just an imperfection. 

DeLuca and Manes kept talking about the interview, blood splatter, and the prints. “The prints go out into the woods.” DeLuca was saying, looking at a map. “There’s caves out there.” 

Manes nodded. “Maybe one of those underground bases?” 

Michael looked at them sharply. Were they fucking serious? “Underground bases?”

“Never heard of that?” DeLuca laughed a little. “There’s a bunch of rumors dating back decades of aliens turning old defunct mines or caves into underground bases. Nothing confirmed, of course, but…”

“Can’t rule it out,” Manes filled in.

Michael half-laughed. “Why the hell would aliens want to live underground?”    
  
“Maybe they’re light sensitive,” Manes said, shrugging. “Maybe they’re like any other living creature looking for a safe place to rest their heads. Caves are defensible.”

“Defensible?” Michael frowned. It always did come back to that with humans. He rolled his eyes. “For the incoming invasion?” 

Manes arched an eyebrow at him. Michael, realizing what he must sound like, turned his attention back to the plaster. “This is ready, I’m going to go take it inside.” He got up with mold and disappeared inside. 

* * *

“He is super weird,” Alex said under his breath, watching Guerin until he disappeared inside. Then he turned to Maria. “Got much of a read on him yet?” 

Maria shook her head. “Not really. It feels like he’s lying when he’s got no reason to, and telling the truth when he’s obviously lying. It’s… confusing.” 

“Is your radar broke?” Alex asked, rapping his knuckles gently against Maria’s temple.    
  
“Dear husband, if you don’t want your shooting hand broken you better stop that,” Maria said sweetly. Alex chuckled but withdrew his hand.    
  
“The question still stands, dear wife,” Alex said, sliding his hands into the pockets of his trousers, dark cargo pants this time. Alex had no interest in traipsing through the forests of Kentucky in a suit and dress shoes. 

She let out a frustrated breath. “No. I don’t think so, anyway. Feels normal with everyone else -- the Andrews. Even his so-called sister, whoever she actually is. I just don’t get Guerin yet. But I will.”

“Is it the curls?” Alex couldn’t help but the tease. “Is that what’s causing this Guerin shaped blind spot?”   
  
“You’re not funny,” Maria said, giving him a little shove. “What are we doing for dinner? It’s gonna be a long night.” A not-so subtle request for Alex to go pick something up.

“I was actually kind of thinking of searching the caves. There’s still some daylight.” A so-called goblin sighting had never been reported during the day so it made sense to check the caves for them now.    
  
“I’d rather not until tomorrow morning,” Maria said. “If we do anything else today, it’s take the plaster mold to the game commission, see if they can ID those tracks. And also, ask them if bears like to make homes in those caves.” Maria paused, pulling out her cell phone with it’s pitiful one bar. “Are bears even native to Kentucky?” 

“Yeah black bears,” Alex replied. “Did some reading on the native fauna at the airport. Guerin’s not wrong to think these people have just misidentified some owls or something.”   
  
Maria nodded. “He’s not. Gonna have to talk to him about his bedside manner, though. Can’t have two brusque interviewers. Ruins the balance.” 

Brusque was of course a nice way to put it, Alex acknowledged. “Maybe it’s good that we have a skeptic as an advisor.”    
  
“An alien-obsessed skeptic,” Maria said dryly.   
  
“I didn’t say it wasn’t weird.” Alex’s chuckle turned into a sigh. He raked his hand through his hair, frustrated. Maybe Guerin was right? Maybe they were wasting their time. 

Maria, likely picking up on his change in mood, squeezed Alex’s shoulder, rubbing gently. “Hey, I know we haven’t found much--”   
  
“Anything. We haven’t found anything. It’s been years and dad’s still doing who knows what.”   


“Alex, it hasn’t been a complete waste.”   
  
“Yeah,” he acknowledged, despairingly. Sure they’ve found some things… but nothing that would make a good solid case, let alone clue them into what his dad was really up to.

“Hey,” Maria said, grabbing his arm and turning him towards her. She didn’t continue until she caught his eyes. “We’ve done good. That’s something. That serial killer who liked to pretend he was a ghost in the walls of his victims houses?  _ We  _ stopped him. That weird ass lady who was gassing those towns folk, stopped her too. People are safer. People are  _ alive _ as a direct result of our work.” 

“You’re right. Of course you’re right.” He nodded, wrapping an arm around her, kissing her temple. He shouldn’t let his vendetta cloud him from all the good he’s done, they’ve done.   
  
“We’ll get him though,” Maria said firmly. “He can’t keep ahead of us forever.”   


And that was the worst part. Jesse knew that they were after him, he had an edge on them, and it was Alex’s own damned fault. Alex tried not to let his thoughts spiral into anger at his own stupidity. Years ago, Alex had finally managed to break into Jesse’s computer systems, download top-secret files on the ‘47 crash. And like an idiot, he’d printed those files out and marched into Jesse’s office, all stupid bravado, demanding to know what he was up to. It hadn’t seemed to fluster Jesse at all, but Alex had stupidly dropped his guard in his own self-assurance, and Jesse had knocked him out. When he came to, all the information he had was gone, his place had been ransacked and his computer taken. By the time he got back online, all the security flaws he’d exploited on his father’s computer were gone, as if they’d never been there.

There weren’t many mistakes Alex had made that he blamed himself for, but that one? That one kept him up at night. 

“You’re right,” he said, nodding. He knew, intellectually, that Jesse couldn’t outsmart him  _ and _ Maria forever. It was just hard to believe sometimes.   
  
They were distracted by the sudden smell of cooking. Frowning, Maria and Alex walked back into the house and found Guerin in the kitchen, an apron wrapped around his slim waist and a pot on the stove. He looked like a proper house husband.   
  
“Guerin, what are you doing?” Alex demanded angrily.    
  
“What does it look like? I’m making stew.” Guerin grinned at them.    
  
“This isn’t your food!” Alex protested.   
  
“Commandeered for FBI purposes,” Guerin said, shrugging unapologetically. “Agents gotta eat so they can protect the meth heads from the space goblins.”    
  
“Do you have any proof that they’re meth heads or are you just being an asshole?” Maria asked, dryly.    
  
Guerin just waved a dismissive hand. So asshole it was. “Anyway, they can have leftovers, if there are any. I’m a good damn cook.” 

“Prison mess hall?” 

Guerin tensed a little, hesitating, eyes on the pot. “No. Learned before.” His tone clipped, but polite enough. 

“Shouldn’t have assumed,” Maria said apologetically. But Guerin just shrugged, his back to them. Maria tried again, from a different angle. “Do you need any help? I’m not so bad in the kitchen either.”

He hesitated for a minute, but nodded. “Sure, if you don’t mind cutting onions.” 

Alex leaned against the doorframe, watching them. It was weirdly domestic. 

The distraction of dinner meant that they didn’t get a chance to take the mold down to the game commission but the rest of their evening had actually been nice and quiet. A chance to start to get to know each other. 

Alex looked for beer in the Andrews’ fridge -- they were already going to have to compensate them for the food anyway -- and found moonshine in the pantry, instead. Oh well. When in Kentucky, he supposed, pouring a modest bit for all three of them as they settled down to eat together. Guerin  _ was _ a surprisingly good cook. He had an easy laugh, and he was just as smart as advertised, quick witted and funny. Enough to keep up with Maria and Alex’s snark. Though they were definitely better at it. But, earlier mishap aside, he took a ribbing pretty well, as long as they steered clear of the convict thing. 

A soft tapping broke through their conversation, and all three of them shifted to look at the windows. 

“Well. Looks like the little green men are here for a visit,” Michael said, softly. Finishing off his moonshine with a deep drink, and setting it down. 

“That’s our cue.” Maria said, getting up, moving quick and quiet to her bag, pulling out a camera and nodding to Alex, who turned off the lights. 

She stepped into the living room, where the tapping was louder. Alex and Michael behind her, and they could see weird, spindly fingers pressed against the glass. Maria took a few pictures, and quietly started creeping up closer, trying to get a better angle on it -- until she accidentally kicked an empty beer bottle, sending it clattering across the floor.

The shadowy figure froze for a moment, and then there was a flurry of movement as it, and a few other figures scattered, heading out back into the woods. 

“Damnit,” Maria said, softly. 

Alex groaned. “And of course they didn’t all go the same way, did they?” He was already grabbing a couple more cameras, and their green-light flashlights. “Come on. Let’s follow.” 

“This alien hunting thing is a lot like real hunting, isn’t it?” Guerin asked, holding a hand out for the equipment though. Alex hesitated for just a moment before handing it over. Even if he ran, that’s what the anklet was for, right? 

“Be careful,” he cautioned, instead of reminding him of the tracker. Guerin wasn’t an idiot. But if these were real aliens, they could be dangerous. 

“Always am,” Guerin said, just a little tightly, as he turned to head out into the night.

* * *

This was ridiculous. Whatever they were chasing clearly wasn’t aliens. So they were all out on this wild goose chase -- no, maybe not geese. Whatever had run off didn’t much look like birds. More like some kind of mammal. 

They got separated pretty quickly. Michael wasn’t going to pretend it wasn’t at least 50% deliberate. Because in the highly unlikely event that these things turned out to be aliens, Michael wasn’t going to be complicit in their capture and dissection. He had some goddamned standards.

Maybe the other 50% was just that he wanted to appreciate being out in all this green by himself. After growing up in the desert and spending years behind concrete walls, it felt like learning how to breathe all over again.

He was out there for at least a half an hour, creeping through the forest, carefully. He heard them first, that weird tapping sound, and occasional high-pitched cries. He followed his ears, slowing down, trying to move quieter, and eventually he could see them, like black holes jumping from tree to tree. But more than that, he could hear them tapping on the trunks of said trees, gnawing on the bark. Foraging for food?

They seemed to pay him no mind, until he got close enough for his footfalls to disturb them. Then a dozen wide, bright eyes turned to him in unison.

“Heeeey, fellow aliens,” Michael said softly, looking at them. They were surprisingly big, maybe two, three feet? Too big for what he was pretty sure they were. They looked like monkeys or some other primate, though really ugly ones. Big puffy tails, big bat-like ears, large startled eyes. He remembered seeing something like them the one time one of his foster families had let him go on a zoo trip.

He hummed, pulling out the camera Manes had given him, taking a few pictures. One of them scampered over to him, climbing up his leg and starting to scrabble for a pocket. Clearly used to humans, they weren’t scared at all. 

“Don’t have any snacks,” he said, sympathetically. He was sure he still smelled like food. What did weird looking primates eat, anyway?

Surprisingly, it let him shift it up on his hip, like a large baby. It was light, more puffy tails and hair and gangly limbs than meat. Michael stared down at it, and took a few more pictures, before trying to shift it off of him. “Okay…” It just clung to him, with its long spindly fingers. One much skinnier, longer than the others. That must have been what it was tapping with, the weird finger that creeped the kids out. Michael humed under his breath. “Seriously, you’re better off staying here if food’s what you’re after.” 

It seemed disinclined to let him go, though, scrabbling at his pockets. Michael and it stared at each other for several minutes before he sighed. “Okay, let’s see if we got snacks back at the house.” Turning to head that way, kind of expecting it would protest or jump off of him as he did. 

It didn’t. Still digging in his pockets, or pulling at his shirt and sticking its weirdly wet nose against his skin. “Gross,” Michael chuckled, shifting it up higher, until it found its way to his shoulders. It stayed clinging to him even as Michael made his way back to the house. He could hear the trees rustling all around him as he walked, large round eyes caught the light of his flashlight, gleaming red in the dark. 

“You’re friends aren’t as brave,” he commented dryly, as long fingers combed through his hair, curiously. “Rude. What are you trying to say?” He chuckled.    
  
Back at the house, let himself in. He didn’t bother turning on the lights, using the flashlight to look for snacks. There was a bowl of fruit, so he set the flashlight down so that it illuminated them and part of the room, grabbed an apple and offered it over. 

It snatched it right up, hungrily. Michael watched for a minute, laughing softly. It was so damn ugly that it was almost cute, he thought. Shifting slowly, he pulled his newly-issued phone out, deciding to do some googling, while he waited for the dream team to find their way back.

* * *

“I can’t believe we lost Guerin,” Maria grumbled, standing in the clearing looking up at...well she wasn’t sure what they were but she  _ was  _ sure they weren’t extraterrestrial.    
  
“I mean,” Alex said, pulling out his cellphone. Honestly, he’d be lucky to still have reception out here. It was a miracle they had reception in the house. “We can’t exactly lose someone wearing a tracking anklet.” 

“You know what I mean.” She squinted up into the trees. “Any guesses as to what we’re looking at?’ 

“Rodents of Unusual Size?” Alex suggested, dryly. 

Maria smiled fondly over at him. “Nerd.” Not that she didn’t love that movie too. “Those tails are not rodent-y. Genetically modified monkeys? Are there any testing labs nearby?” 

Alex shrugged helplessly, lifting up his phone. “Going to have to go back up to the house to check. Got nothing out here.”

One of the creatures scampered off the tree and headed right towards them. “Oh I think I see an ear tag.” She tried to reach for it but it scampered out of the way. “Didn’t the Andrews mention a crash? Maybe they escaped.”   
  
“Yeah but they also mentioned flashing lights,” Alex groaned. She could sense his annoyance. Another dead end. Just a bunch of, what seemed like, escaped lab animals. 

“Babe, as much as we want to find something, until  _ we _ see the flashing lights, we’ve got to rely on what’s in front of us,” she said gently, reaching to rub his back soothingly. “I know it sucks.” 

Alex was quiet for a moment, watching the creature scamper back up a tree. “Still think we should check the caves for bases.” 

“Sure,” Maria agreed. No stone unturned, right? “We can go in the morning? We should find Guerin anyway,” Maria added. “There may not be any aliens out here but there’s still those bears.” 

Alex finally relaxed, a bit, chuckling. “I guess we can’t let him get eaten on his  _ first _ day on the job.”

“Or at all,” Maria countered, laughing, and they started to make their way back toward the cabin. Guerin was smart, Maria didn’t think he’d wander further into the woods, risk getting lost. But even if he had, once Alex got reception again, they could track him, if need be.

Any fear of Guerin getting lost in the woods was alleviated by the faint green glow of a flashlight in the house. 

“Can’t decide if I’m mad at him for being lazy or relieved that he isn’t lost.” Alex said as they headed up to the porch. 

“You should be thankful that I am here to solve all your paranormal mysteries,” Guerin said, opening the door. Perched on his shoulder was one of those things, happily munching on an apple. 

“You caught one!” Maria exclaimed, hushed though. “How?”

“He asked me to take him to my leader and I told him that was me.” Geurin grinned.

Alex rolled his eyes so hard it was practically audible. “Do you recognize it?” 

“Pretty sure it’s an aye aye?” Guerin said, scrunching up his face a bit. Maria felt that was unnecessarily adorable. “Some kind of lemur. I’m not a biologist.” 

“Oh like in Madagascar!” Maria exclaimed. “I love that movie.” 

“Haven’t seen it,” Guerin said. He shrugged nonchalantly, but there was a thread of something. Sadness, anger. Something she wanted to pick out. It wasn’t the time though, and besides Guerin was stepping back into the house. “Anyway. It fits. Glowing eyes and everything. They’ve got that membrane that cats do, tapetum lucidum. More red though. Just trying to figure out how the hell they got all the way out here.”

Maria glanced at Alex briefly before following Guerin back into the house. 

“Probably a lab,” Alex said, while Maria flicked on the lights. The lemur protested, burying its face in Guerin’s curls, pulling hard enough that he winced. 

“Lights off, DeLuca,” Guerin said. “They’re sensitive.” 

“Sorry.” Maria turned off the light. “Anyway, I think I saw a tag on one of them. Couldn’t get a good look. Guess I’m not a lemur whisperer. They stayed back.”

Alex wasn’t even paying attention to them anymore, opening up his laptop and getting to work figuring out where the aye aye might have come from.

“Yeah I think hunger over took this one’s good sense,” Guerin said, scratching behind the lemur’s big ears. It made a happy sound at the attention. It really was one of the weirdest looking animals Maria had ever seen but that little reaction immediately endeared it to her. 

“Well that makes sense.” Alex piped up. “Being so far from their actual territory must make it harder to forage here.” Okay, maybe he was paying a little attention. 

Guerin made a soft noise of agreement. “So does this mean case closed? Are we heading back to Albuquerque?” 

“We still need to figure out how they got here,” Maria said. “And figure out who’s going to be in charge of collecting them. They can’t live in the wilds of Kentucky,” she pointed out, walking over to the fruit bowl, grabbing it and heading back outside. 

“I donno they already kind of look like little methheads. They’ll fit right in. What are you doing?” Guerin asked, following her out. There was something in the way he did it, reminiscent of a sad, lost puppy. Or maybe, better said, a lost aye aye.    
  
“Well if they’re hungry…” She shrugged. “It’s not their fault they’re stuck in some weird place with no food.” 

Guerin looked at her. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said softly. Gently untangling the aye aye from his shoulders and setting it down. 

Out in the tree line, now that she was aware, she could see little eyes peering back at her. Before they seemed so alien and creepy, now they seemed desperate and sad.    
  
“All right guys,” Maria said, after getting about ten feet from the house. She set the bowl down on the ground but threw an apple towards the trees. “Dinner’s on the FBI.” 

Guerin chuckled softly, going back to sit on the porch steps, watching them. “This is pretty cool,” he admitted, quietly. “Never seen anything like this before.” 

“Yeah, right? I love this job,” Maria replied, smiling, walking backwards away from the bowl, back towards the house. A couple of little figures scampered towards the apple she threw but hurried back to the trees. One of them seemed injured and Maria remembered that the Andrews had shot at them.

“It clearly has its perks.” Guerin nodded, leaning back on his hands, and when she turned to look at him, he was looking up at her. Maria had to be grateful it was too dark to see the exact outline of the lazy grin on his face. Just hearing it in his voice was bad enough. 

Maria, in her infinite patience and forgiveness, decided it was best not to address that. Instead she kicked his leg, not entirely gently, until he made room for her on the porch step. She sat down, eyes back towards the fruit bowl and beyond. The aye ayes were slowly making their way towards it, cautious but hungry. 

There was a blur of movement opposite Guerin. The one that had befriended him was moving towards the bowl with purpose. She chuckled.    
  
“Guess he’s still hungry,” Guerin said, smiling. 

“Ok,” Alex said, walking out of the house, with refilled glasses of moonshine in hand. He handed one to Guerin and one to her. “There’s a research lab, Galloway’s, up over in North Carolina. They do a lot of animal testing. From what I can gather, it’s like we thought. They lost a transport on the way but kept a lid on it.”   
  
“Why?” Guerin asked then he made a face. “Wait no. Is the magic word illegal?”   
  
“Bingo,” Alex said. “Aye ayes are endangered.” 

Maria was bristling. She never liked the idea of animal testing in general, of course, but endangered creatures really helped push it over the top. “We’re not reporting to them, are we?”    
  
Guerin was raising an eyebrow. “Won’t they know already if you just called it in?”

Alex and Maria paused, looking at each other, amused. 

“Mn. I got out of the military with some computer skills,” he said, modestly. “Good news, we’re not done with the investigation, so nothing to report yet. And there’s a rescue and breeding center in North Carolina too. Nothing stopping us from making a call there, right?”

“Nothing at all,” Maria agreed, reaching up to squeeze Alex’s hand. Alex squeezed back and didn’t let go. “Anonymous calls while we’re still investigating strange phenomena. We still haven’t checked out those caves, right?” 

“What? Are you serious?” Guerin groaned and took an over-large gulp of his drink. “ _ C’mon. _ ” 

“You got somewhere you need to be, Guerin?” Alex asked, dryly. “A different paying job perhaps?”

“No,” Guerin said, somewhat sourly.

“Great,” Alex said cheerfully, clearly enjoying Guerin’s displeasure. “We’ll head into town, ask about bears in the caves, pick up some more fruit and head towards the caves.”   
  
“Bears?!” Guerin said alarmed. “I’m not getting mauled looking for underground alien bases in Kentucky. You’re insane.” 

“Oh toughen up.” Maria laughed, elbowing him lightly. “We’ll protect you.” 

Guerin did not look convinced.


	3. Rejected Files: #X-08211955-9 - #X-08211959-0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rejected Files: #X-08211955-9 - #X-08211959-0

No matter where they were coming from, the flight home always seemed so much longer than the one out to a job.

Guerin and Alex both obviously felt the same. Their auras were both clouded, dark and heavy with exhaustion and irritation. Long nights, a little jetlag, and a redeye never made for sunny dispositions. At least they’d be home soon, Maria thought to herself as they silently waited to collect their bags from the conveyor belt. She for one couldn’t _wait_ to sink into a bath and then sleep in her own damned bed.

Not that she hated sharing a bed with Alex when they were on assignment, but she had gotten used to her space over the years. And Alex had weirdly cold feet.

Guerin, having brought only the one bag, looked about to fall asleep standing up, and honestly Maria envied him, not having to pay attention to anything at the moment. 

“Michael!” The deep voice cut across the hum of conversation and the squeal of the conveyor belt.

Guerin blinked awake, looking toward the voice.

Before any of them could even think, a tall, skinny cowboy was bounding over, and wrapping him in a big, tight hug, knocking Guerin’s own hat askew a bit. Alex and Maria both tensed, hands on their sidearms. But Maria couldn’t sense any malice from this man or any fear from Guerin. On the contrary actually...

Guerin struggled to stay stoic for about half a second before he wrapped his arms tight around the other man, letting out a breath and hugging him back just as hard.

Maria looked over at Alex, with a raised eyebrow. “The elusive brother?” She muttered, under her breath. Not much of a family resemblance with this sibling either -- except for the hats, she supposed.

Alex shrugged. “They seem close,” he murmured back, and leaned down to grab a bag off the belt. Obviously a little too tired to make any cracks about _how_ close they looked. They were still hugging, clinging really, Guerin’s face buried into the other man’s neck. 

“Okay, okay, deputy,” Guerin finally said, with a laugh, extricating himself, looking up a bit at him. “Thought you’d be heading back down to Roswell by now.” 

“Yeah, well. The sheriff let me take a couple personal days. I gotta leave tomorrow night, though.” 

_Sheriff?_ Alex mouthed over at Maria, eyebrows all the way up. He was definitely awake now.

Maria just shrugged slightly, and grabbed their field kit, since Alex was clearly distracted. Maria did finally clear her throat when they wouldn’t stop staring into each other’s eyes. 

The cowboy started, and immediately looked guilty, his attention finally off Guerin and on them. “Sorry.. I should introduce myself. Max Evans.” He offered his hand over.

Alex shook his hand, almost certainly on autopilot as he soaked up every detail of the interaction. “Alex Manes.” 

Maria offered her hand next, introducing herself, too. “You’re the brother we’ve heard almost nothing about?” 

“Yes ma’am.” He said, with a soft, charming smile. He had a deep voice, a little rough like he wasn’t used to talking too much. “You mind if I take Michael here out for breakfast?”

Guerin groaned. “I’m off the clock, I don’t need _permission_ …” 

“Even so.” Evans looked both Maria and Alex in the eye. 

“Fine by us.” Maria nodded, a little nonplussed. And truth be told she was kind of relieved. Anything to get them home a little faster. Guerin’s trailer wasn’t exactly on their way.

“Thanks, ma’am,” Evans said, actually tipping his hat, like he was in some kind of movie, with a charming smile, ignoring Guerin’s sputtering as he pulled him away, his arm still around him. 

“Seems like Guerin’s real popular.” Alex said, shouldering his bags, watching them go. 

Oh there was her husband’s signature dry wit. 

“Apparently.” Maria agreed. “...Did Guerin call him deputy?”

“The plot thickens,” Alex added. “And it can wait until after sleep.”

“Agreed.” 

* * *

Isobel had, somehow, in the last couple days procured a firepit and three chairs that she had parked right outside the airstream. Michael shut the door of Max’s jeep, raising his eyebrow. “Making yourself right at home, I see?” he fake-complained. But it did. It felt like home now, with them there.

“Michael!” Isobel ran up to him, giving him a hug.

“Worried about me?” he asked, as he hugged her back. The hugs were definitely not getting old yet.

“How could I not? Trouble sticks to you like white on rice,” she said dryly before breaking into a big smile. “Tell me they won’t be stealing you again so soon.”

“Not stealing, Iz,” Max said. “He’s gotta do his job.” 

“Do my time you mean.” Michael said, dryly. Going to yank the door of the airstream open and toss his bag in. He and Max had picked up breakfast burritos on the way there, so he grabbed some beers, offering them around. Both Izzy and Max turned him down. Oh well, more for him.

“It’s eight am, Michael,” Isobel scolded.

“Making up for lost time,” Michael said, popping the cap off with his powers. “Besides, I haven’t slept in like 24 hours, so time has no meaning and society’s rules are fake.” He went to flop in one of the chairs, taking a burrito when Max offered it over.

“I have to admit, I missed your nonsense logic.” Iz shook her head, laughing. “So can you tell us how it went or is it top secret?” Isobel asked, taking a seat. There was a grate over the firepit and a percolator, which was starting to make the customary coffee making sounds. 

“No aliens other than me.” Michael said, smirking, kicking his feet up on the edge of the pit. “Escaped exotic animals. Super scary.” Especially when they were clinging to Manes’ back, tapping the top of his head like they were going to find grubs inside. Manes had actually laughed then, Michael had been surprised. He didn’t think the guy’s face muscles worked that way truth be told. Seemed like anything more than a smirk would have caused him to pull a muscle.

It was a nice smile though.

“Donno if I should be relieved or not,” Isobel said, taking the percolator off the fire and pouring out coffee. It seemed fancy. He took the cup she was going to give to Max. Hey, it had been a while since he’d had decent coffee. He took a drink of it and groaned, happily. Fuck it was good to be out of that fucking prison.

Definitely relieved,” Max said after swallowing a bit of burrito. “Let’s not go borrowing any more trouble than Michael already did.” 

Isobel reached over to swat him, lightly. Though she wasn’t exactly arguing. And Michael swallowed the guilt with another drink of that scalding hot coffee. They’d both warned him, so many times, that things would catch up with him at some point. At least both of them had had the decency not to remind him of that fact, so far.

“You know the federal bureau of intimidation actually believes that aliens have secret underground bases?” Best he shifted the topic away from his past decisions. 

“What?” Max laughed. “Isn’t that like their thing? Area 51 and all.” 

“Ethnocentrism is a hell of a drug?” Isobel offered.

“Amen sister,” Michael drawled. “Spent an entire day wandering around defunct coal mines. Probably gonna have to get checked out for black lung.”

“Oh my god you are so stupid.” Isobel complained, lightly. 

“Sounds like they might be the stupid ones,” Max commented.

“They do believe in aliens,” Isobel agreed with a laugh.

“Aliens _are_ real, Iz,” Michael said dryly. “They’re nice,” he added, without thinking, and quickly amended, “I mean, for feds.”

“You got a problem with law enforcement?” Max asked, dryly. 

“Yes.” Michael shot back. Honestly, what kind of answer did Max expect? Even before the prison-worthy offenses, he had always run afoul of law enforcement. Woke up plenty of mornings in the drunk tank with a split lip and a pounding hangover or been rounded up on suspicion of petty theft. Roswell PD had clearly pigeonholed him long before he got into actual felonies.

“Boys,” Isobel said, immediately trying to nip it in the bud. 

"We’re not all bad,” Max said over her.

“Please Max,” Michael said dismissively. “You’re not a cop, you're a poet in cop cosplay.” 

Max sputtered softly, looking both annoyed and completely read. “Oh shut up, Michael.” Max finished up his burrito before deciding it was time to change the subject. “Iz, Noah was asking me how long you’re planning on staying up here. Said you haven’t been returning his calls.” 

It was Isobel’s turn to look uncomfortable, tucking her hair behind her ears. “You can let him wonder.” 

“Iz?” Max frowned, immediately concerned. Michael was too but all he did was take a pull from his beer, hiding his frown with the bottle. 

“Look, I just.. I need a break.” She said, after a pause, setting her food aside and picking up her coffee, wrapping her hands around it tightly. “He’s a big boy, he’ll survive without me there to order his takeout and pay the maid.” 

“Did he do something?” Max asked, gently, but there was a deep undercurrent of restrained anger. It almost never broke to the surface, but they all knew it was there, unspoken. “Hurt you?” 

“No, no, nothing like that,” Isobel said quickly, but there was a weird note of uncertainty in her voice.

“You’re not just saying that because you think me and Max are going to drive down there and kick his ass are you?” Michael asked, keeping his tone light, like he’s joking. But they all knew he wasn’t. They would in fact be doing just that if they even got the slightest inkling that Noah had so much as mussed her hair in a non-consensual manner. 

Isobel smiled, tense. “Michael, I know damn well that if Noah laid hands on me, they’d never find his body.” She reached over to Max’s arm, rubbing it gently. He looked as tense as Michael felt. “I promise. He hasn’t done anything. Things are just different lately. Weird. I think it’s good for me to take some time. Clear my head.” 

“It would put our minds at ease if you gave us an idea of what’s changed Isobel,” Max replied, resting his hand over hers, clearly worried. But Michael didn’t see any anger in his eyes, so at least he believed that Isobel wasn’t lying about Noah hurting her. 

She inhaled, frowning, and let it out slowly. “You know how, before there’s a thunderstorm the air changes?” She asked. “It’s been feeling like that. It’s hard to put into words, and I don’t know if it’s him or if I’m just picking up on something that isn’t there.” 

“Have you slipped into his head?” Michael asked. “Would answer your questions. Whatever they are, as you are being vague as shit.” 

Isobel wrinkled her nose. “No. I’m not doing that to him. I’m not doing that to anyone anymore, thank you.” 

“Since when?” Michael asked, looking askance at her.

She let out a soft, frustrated breath. “A while now. My powers are dangerous.”

“You’ve never had a problem with your powers before...” Michael looked over at Max, who shook his head, clearly not knowing anything. 

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” she said, shaking her head. “It would be a violation of his privacy. Anyway, there’s no law against taking a vacation without one’s husband, this isn’t the 1600s. And you’re going to need someone to help you get back on your feet.” 

Of course she was turning this into a help Michael case. Ignoring her own problems by being a busybody. Typical Isobel.

“Ok,” Max said. “I’ll tell him you’re helping Michael.” Max didn’t particularly sound thrilled. Michael couldn’t blame him. They both low-key hated Noah, truth be told. He never sat well with them. Maybe Isobel was just finally realizing that. Honeymoon period over. Hopefully.

“Thank you.” Izzy smiled, leaning over the arm of the chair so she could ruffle Max’s hair gently. 

“So they’re nice,” Isobel said, after some silence.

“Huh?”

“The feds. You said they were nice.” Isobel grinned at Michael. 

Michael tried not to groan, keeping a straight face. “I mean I’m not in shackles anymore and they gave me a phone.”

Max was immediately holding his hand out for the phone. “Gimme, I need your number.” 

Michael contemplated saying no, he really did. But he handed it over, with a modicum of grace even. 

“That’s just normal work stuff. You can’t chase aliens if you’re in shackles and I don’t think they want to see your naked chest next time they’re picking you up for work,” Isobel pointed out. “What makes them _nice_?”

Michael glared at her. Really _wanting_ to be an asshole and fall into objectifying them. After all, they both had asses to die for, and Maria’s tits? Utter perfection. But he didn’t want to scandalize Max’s Victorian maiden sensibilities. “I dunno. They liked my cooking and they called an animal rescue for the alien lemurs instead of calling the testing lab that lost them?” 

Max snorted, leaning back in his chair, looking at Michael with no small amusement. “You cooked for them?”

“We were hungry out in the backwoods of Kentucky. It was that or starve.” Michael said, defensively. 

Isobel’s eyes had gone soft though. “And they liked it?” 

“I’m a good cook, Iz, unlike _some_ family members I could mention.”

She leaned down and grabbed a pebble that she tossed at him in response. 

* * *

“CO2 leak.” Michael announced to the office, after hanging up with a particularly helpful local gas company. “You owe me twenty bucks.”

Manes groaned, digging out his wallet and handing it over. They’d gotten into this habit, lately -- DeLuca had suggested it, to break up the (generally good natured) shouting matches that Michael and Manes had started getting into over the most ridiculous cases.

So far, Michael was batting a thousand. Of course. “You know, I’m gonna clean you out entirely if you keep hitching your wagon to this bullshit. I mean, demonic roommate? Really?” 

“No one likes a sore winner, Guerin,” DeLuca said, chucking a wadded up ball of paper at his head. 

“I am not in this game to be liked,” Michael retorted, smirking. “Man’s gotta pay his bar tab. And his sister’s bar tab. And his brother’s too, when he’s in town.”

“I thought he went back to Roswell?” 

Manes always has a peculiar sort of note in his voice when he said Roswell. Probably choking back the UFO crash conspiracies. It was weird, because you’d think that would be the one thing he would want to talk about. But Michael couldn’t deny that it was a relief.

He was starting to like Manes and DeLuca. He never really had friends before, but he was pretty sure this was what it felt like. Friends close and enemies closer and all, but he’d really rather not think of them as enemies.

“Yeah, but he’ll be back. He and Bella are super co-dependent.” Honestly, the fact that Iz had been here this long was really weird. She’d gotten an apartment a few miles away from Michael’s place and she was over basically every damn night. And even though he’d tried to get her to talk about it, she would just smile a little tightly and shift the subject.

Manes nodded, in understanding, letting the subject drop, and settling back into his ‘research,’ making notes on the file on his desk. Alex’s desk was neat. The kind of neat that would make someone think no one used that desk ‘cause even a temp would give it more of a personal feel. 

DeLuca’s desk abuted Manes and contrasted it entirely. Compared to Manes’ desk, hers was chaos, with files in little piles along the edges, a computer screen laden with sticky notes, and knick knacks from various trips--stuff you’d get at an airport or at a tourist shop. There was also a picture frame next to her computer of a pretty older woman with long curly hair, by the resemblance Michael assumed she was a family member. 

It wasn’t exactly an enormous office. The two desks, the filing cabinet and the white board were already pushing it to its limits. And that was before they forced in another desk for Michael to use, which was nice of them, he had to admit. But it made describing the office as cozy feel like an understatement.

The FBI may be entertaining this cockamanie outfit, but it was going to spend as little funding on it as possible. That made Michael feel better, honestly.

“Apparently there’s been a new mothman sighting,” Manes said, into the silence, leaning back in his chair. He took a pen from his desk and tapped it against his lower lip, thoughtfully, while looking at his computer screen. 

“Hasn’t been one of those in a while,” DeLuca replied.

He glanced up at Manes and Deluca from the file he’d been reading (where there were ridiculous reports of a jacked lizard man attacking drivers in the swamps of Florida), frowning at them. “You two cannot possibly be entertaining mothman,” Michael said, exasperated. It had been a few weeks since the Kentucky Goblin incident, but Michael was still having a hard time believing these two were for real. 

“The truth is out there, Guerin,” DeLuca replied, between sips of coffee. Her mug reminded Michael of a geode.

“Yeah it is,” Michael replied and turned his computer screen towards them. “The truth is owls.” He made sure to google images of owls with red eyes. “Great Horned Owl. Common American bird. Big ass bird with big ass red eyes and it's’ even got these cute little tuffs on the top of its head, like moth antenna.”

“Mothman doesn’t look like an actual moth,” Manes huffed, arms crossed.

“Mothman doesn’t look like anything because--” Michael paused for effect. “ _He doesn’t exist._ ” And just to add salt to the wound, Michael pulled up another bird. “Sandhill Crane. Not as cute as owls. But they’re big, they have big ass wings and red spots that look like eyes. And those ridiculous jacked mothman cases? Methheads. Case closed. My coffee didn’t even get cold.”

Michael rolled his eyes and turned his computer screen back around. “Also,” he added, lifting up the file he was just reading. “Gators.”

“Not every answer is animals, Guerins,” Manes shot back annoyed.

“Kentucky Goblins were,” Michael said blandly, looking at his nails. “And it’s more likely than what? Interdimensional travelers? Missing links? _Aliens_?”

“Aliens are real,” Manes shot back, voice tight. 

Michael snorted. Honestly he should get an academy award for that one. “Tell that to the Aye Aye.”

“They’re real Guerin!” Manes said, leaning over his desk, glaring at Michael.

“Yeah? You got one somewhere in this room then?” 

Manes went an interesting shade of red and DeLuca let out a sigh that definitely sounded like she knew where this was going.

Honestly, Michael should have brought popcorn. This was _fun_. If he'd known how fun fucking with feds could be, he might have done this years ago.

“There’s so much history.” Manes was getting up, digging in a file cabinet. “Let’s start with Project Sign. And before you tell me it’s all a conspiracy theory -- I’ve gotten plenty of first-hand accounts. No one wants to go on the fucking record, but--” And here he flipped to a specific page in the file. “The discs-like objects moved silently at extreme rates of climb--” Manes glanced at Michael to make sure he was listening. Satisfied he continued, quoting directly ”--maneuverability (particularly in roll), and motion which must be considered evasive when sighted or contacted by friendly aircraft and radar.”

“The ‘47 crash,” Michael said and here he had to work hard to keep his expression bland. The worst day of his life. The beginning of his stay on this nightmare of a planet. Breathe, Guerin. “And considering what you’re sourcing, you’re perfectly aware that Project Grudge found it was all bogus. The sightings could be explained by--” he cleared his throat, he too could quote “--mundane origins like hoaxes or sun dogs or other meteorological phenomena.”

“And as you know, Guerin, 11,917 were proved as such,” Alex replied, surprising Michael by not bringing up how Vandenberg, Boggs and other high ranking Air Force and Pentagon personnel had a vendetta against the truth. Which was what most so-called UFOlogists immediately pointed out in their crazy way, in the same breath as El Chupacabra. “There are still 701 that remain unexplained today.” 

“Ah yes, the odds of that 5.8% of them being actual aliens that have been able to hang around all these years while bugging humans for fun is super high,” Michael said, dryly, holding up his hand. “Look, I’m already on the record as believing that aliens exist. But you’re not going to find them running around the woods after owls.”

Manes let out a disgusted sigh, tossing the file on Michael’s desk. “I’m getting coffee,” he said, brusquely, grabbing his jacket. 

DeLuca shook her head a little. “He’s a little…”

“Touchy?” Michael filled in. 

“Passionate,” she corrected. “Family connection.” 

Michael frowned. “How do you mean?” 

“That file he was quoting?” She nodded over at it. “Take a look at who compiled the report.”

Weird. Michael picked it open, looking for a name. And yeah, there it was in the beginning. Harlan fucking Manes. Shit. He’d known that. He’d known it and he just… forgot? Wrote off the coincidence before it even registered?

Well _fuck_. 

* * *

“So are you gonna tell us about your new CI, or just let us keep making up stories?” Liz asked, breaking into Maria’s drifting thoughts.

She blinked, dragging herself back into the present. Tuning back into the warmth of the night air, the smell of barbecue, the murmur of Kyle and Alex talking by the grill. They met up like this, at least once a month, a habit ever since Kyle and Liz had become Maria and Alex’s go-to science team at the FBI. A nice little couples night, and a chance to collect with their best (some might say only) friends.

“Does he count as a CI if he’s not informing us about other criminals?”

Liz shrugged, and poured Maria some more sangria. “He’s a criminal. He’s giving you information. I think it tracks.”

Maria chuckled softly. “Fine, fine. What do you want to know?” 

“Everything. Obviously.” 

Maria rolled her eyes. “I mean, you already read his file.” She pointed out. Liz was the one who’d passed it over, after all. Sometimes her natural nosiness was a real asset, Maria had to admit.

“There is more to Guerin than the file!” Liz protested. “Come on, spill.”

“There’s really not that much to spill,” Maria protested. “Guerin’s kind of a closed book. Only real personal details he’s mentioned is that he’s got a brother and sister that aren’t actually related to him in any discernible way and he lives in an airstream.” 

“Fancy.” Liz tilted her head a little. “That can’t be it. How’s he been on cases?” 

Maria smiled, sipping her sangria. “Believe it or not? He’s a skeptic. He makes _you_ seem positively credulous.”

“I highly doubt _that_ ,” Liz murmured into her drink. And maybe Maria was exaggerating. She’d lost count of the times Liz and Alex had gotten into loud drunken debates over the paranormal and supernatural.

“You’d like him,” Maria said, instead of arguing the point. “He’s a science geek like you. Might even be as smart as you.”

Liz scoffed a little, clearly not buying it. “Science geek? Howso?” 

“Well he’s already taken over as our field chemist. And from what I can tell he’s got more than a passing knowledge of biology, physics, and engineering. It’s been pretty convenient. He’s been able to pretty conclusively weed some cases out of our load without us even having to travel to the site. And he’s not a half bad cook.” 

Liz looked skeptical. “Just as long as he doesn’t try to steal my job…”

“Please.” Maria laughed, and shifted to wrap her arm around Liz. “He’s way too annoying for that.”

“Sarcastic little shit?” Liz guessed. At Maria’s questioning look, she shrugged. “That mugshot made it pretty obvious.”

“I think the picture really undersells it,” Maria said dryly. “Some days, I do kind of want to shoot him.”

“My trigger happy best friend,” Liz laughed. “So what about the weird siblings?”

“Weird as advertised. His sister, Bella - she’s pretty evasive. Seriously thought she was a call girl at first, honestly.” Maria shrugged. “But the brother’s apparently a deputy down in Roswell, and I think it’s more likely that Guerin’s the black sheep than the other way around.”

“A deputy?” Liz’s eyebrows shot up. “Have you googled him yet? What’s his name?” 

“No. _No_.” Oh she recognized that light in Liz’s eye. “Come on, it’s not relevant and there’s no reason to go snooping.” Who was she even kidding. This was Liz Ortecho.

Liz narrowed her eyes. “...Hey Alex! What’s Guerin’s brother’s name?” She called out, giving Maria a challenging look.

Alex, bless him, didn’t even think twice, cutting off mid-sentence with Kyle and calling back, “Max Evans? Why?

Maria groaned. “Alex!”

“Wha…” Alex blinked, realizing mistake as Liz let out a triumphant whoop and grabbed her phone. 

“Seriously, Liz,” she sighed, shaking her head at her best friend. “I really don’t need to know.”

“Of course you… _damn_.” Liz paused, staring at her phone. Guess she found Max. She whistled, which caught Kyle’s attention. “I mean, I know you said they weren’t genetically related, but apparently hotness runs in the family. Maybe I should check...”

“Don’t you dare.” Maria said, smacking her lightly as Kyle and Alex turned their full attention on them.

“His hair looks so soft. And I love the Superman curl,” Liz cooed, there was no other way to describe it.  
  
“Liz,” Kyle said dryly.

“Yes, babe?” Liz grinned, tearing her eyes away from her phone to look at Kyle. “Dark haired men are hot.” 

Kyle rolled his eyes. 

“Is he tall?” Liz asked. “He _looks_ tall.. why does this man have no social media?”

“Cause he’s avoiding creepy scientists,” Alex said, throwing a pointed look her way. Liz shrugged, completely unrepentant. “But yeah, he’s tall.” 

“Do I have to worry about you running off with a tall, dark-haired small town deputy here?” Kyle asked, amused.

“Aw baby,” Liz laughed, getting up and throwing her arms around Kyle who huffed in mock annoyance. “He won’t keep me up at night arguing with me about medical ethics will he?"

“Kyle does God’s work,” Maria said dryly. Liz was a brilliant scientist and a good person but she was also the type who believed firmly in working gray areas. Was never entirely against breaking a few rules if it got her the answers she was looking for. Kyle wasn’t exactly her conscience, because she definitely had one, but he was often the one to nudge it awake, so to speak. 

“And we all appreciate him very much,” Alex agreed. Shaking his head and pulling the meat off the grill, bringing the plate to the table that already had all the other taco fixings on it. “Now can we eat?”

“You’re so butch, babe.” Maria smiled up at him. 

“Fuck you,” he said, dropping a fond kiss on her cheek and dropping into a chair, reaching to refresh his own glass of sangria.

They ate quietly for a while.

“Actually Liz,” Alex said. “Didn’t you grow up in Roswell? Did you know Guerin or Evans?”

Liz shook her head. “It’s not as small a town as people like to think. We didn’t go to the same high school. Though it’s likely we crossed paths. A lot of kids love frequenting my dad’s diner.” 

“Yeah I remember those pictures you showed me of you in that cute waitressing uniform with the antenna,” Maria said.

“Yeah though I didn’t do as much waitressing as Rosa did….” She grew quiet, a little more somber after mentioning her sister. Gone now, for almost ten years. Kyle squeezed her hand. “I used to practically live at the library.”

Maria squeezed her arm too, sympathetically. 

“You know it’s weird,” Kyle said, trying to steer the subject away from Rosa. “All the aliens and cryptids and stuff you two chase, you’ve never been to Roswell have you?”

Alex shook his head. “Tried following up on cases down there, but all we got was a lot of dead ends. The air force is good at keeping secrets. Sadly Guerin’s our best lead yet.” 

“Had a feeling,” Liz said, smiling a little more. “You’re welcome. And you know, you’re always welcome to come on any family vacations back down to Roswell? Might not find aliens, but I can guarantee you plenty of alien kitsch.” 

“And some really fucking good tamales,” Kyle said. “Her dad is an amazing cook. Better than my mom,” he said, and then blanched. “Do _not_ tell her I said that.” 

* * *

“I am still so full,” Maria grumbled, leaning against Alex as he looked for his keys. She wasn’t exactly drunk, barely tipsy, but she was just in a good mood.

“You got greedy with that third slice of cake,” Alex chuckled, unlocking the door and pushing it open.

“It was so good...” Maria paused just at the threshold and Alex frowned. He looked in and saw the light on in the kitchen. Their kitchen didn’t face the front of the house so they had missed it on the drive up.

Before they could say anything, Flint walked out of the kitchen, lowball glass in hand. “Hey brother,” he said lightly. “Hope you don’t mind, I let myself in.” He looked at Maria, smiling insincerely as he greeted her. 

“I mind. And I’m armed.” Maria said, tightly. It wasn’t an idle threat, either, Maria almost never left the house without her gun and she had more than once confessed a deep need to shoot Flint somewhere painful.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Alex demanded, frowning and deciding right then and there that every lock in the house was going to be changed and the security system was going to get a massive upgrade.

Flint shrugged. “Guess I shouldn’t have poured out the extra drinks for you two. No hope for a civil family discussion.”

“I swear Flint if you don’t start getting to the point right this fucking instant…”

“Ok ok,” Flint said, in a tone that implied they were being out of line. He still finished his glass before continuing. “I came here to warn you. You need to quit it already. The endless investigations, antagonizing dad.”

“If dad has a problem with what I’m doing,” Alex began, angry, moving towards Flint, who didn’t move away. He stood there, nonchalant, one hand in the pocket of his trousers. He never did see Alex as a real credible threat, no matter how many times Alex had trounced him. “He can come here and talk to me himself. Doesn’t have to send his lapdog.”

Flint didn’t like that. “I’m not here for dad. I’m here for you. You’re messing with shit you know nothing about. Go back to chasing mothman sightings or looking for Nessie and put Guerin back where you found him.”

Maria glanced at Alex, briefly. “Why?” She asked, challenging. “What’s so important about Guerin?”

“Doesn’t matter. You two keep him around, you’re gonna attract the wrong sort of attention.” 

“I feel like we’re attracting the wrong sort of attention right now.” Alex said, pointedly. “That the whole message Flint, or do you have any more annoyingly vague nuggets to impart?” 

Flint was glaring at Alex now, displeased with him for not heeding his sage words. It was always that way with Flint, since they were little. Always telling Alex all the wrong ways to live, to handle dad, and getting pissed at him when Alex would eventually tell him to fuck off. 

“When you find yourselves well and truly fucked, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He set the glass down on the hallway table and started to move towards the door.

“Oh, Flint,” Maria said, dryly. Alex had to rest a hand on her shoulder. He wasn’t exactly sure she would refrain from taking out his kneecap as he walked by. “I don’t believe for one minute that you’ve _ever_ been well and truly fucked.”

Flint turned a rather interesting shade of purple, and flipped her off as he stepped out the front door. 

Maria turned to Alex. “Remind me why I still haven’t shot him?”

“Paperwork, babe,” he said tightly. Furious that Flint got in past his defense and that he didn’t notice until it was too late. Alex worried he was getting too comfortable. Letting his guard down with his family, let himself get too distracted with missions and success that had nothing to do with his goal. 

“Oh _right_.” She half-laughed, though it sounded shaky. “Good news, love. We’re on the right track.” 

“Fucking finally,” Alex laughed, hugging her tight. “Maybe we owe Liz a bottle of some fancy tequila.” 

Maria just held him for a long, long minute. “... Wanna sleep in mine tonight?” 

“Am I protecting you, or are you protecting me?” Alex asked, with a little laugh. 

“Both. Obviously.” She squeezed him.

“Fair enough. Yeah, I do.” Alex nodded, rubbing her back, glad she was safe. Glad they were both safe. Enough that he wasn’t even going to remind her to keep her damn pointy elbows to herself. “But first I’m going to sweep the house for bugs.”

“Yeah I’ll help,” she said. “Let me just get this damn bra off first.”


	4. Case #X-08211959-1: Silver Falls Abduction Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Case #X-08211959-1: Silver Falls Abduction Incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: brief mentions of past child abuse

They were sitting at the airport again, waiting for their flight to taxi, disgorge its last passengers and clean up. Before meeting Manes and DeLuca, Michael had never even seen a plane close up, unless you counted the planes at that one military base he hit in the dead of the night. Now, it looked like he was going to get real familiar with them.    
  
Unfortunately, they never went anywhere interesting. 

“Again with the woods?” Michael groaned, looking through the file DeLuca had handed to him. “You know, if I were an alien, you wouldn’t catch me that far from civilization.” 

“Weren’t you  _ just _ complaining about how boring desk jobs are?” DeLuca teased, lightly. 

Unfair. 90% of their job was debating whether creepypastas were real or not (Michael was proud of himself for learning new internet lingo) and honestly there were only so many rehashed urban legends one could read while trapped behind a cold metal desk.

Manes rolled his eyes, and took a deep drink of his coffee. “That’s how I recall it, yes. Cheer up, Guerin. Oregon woods are different from Kentucky ones.”

“Great, new and different ticks to catch lyme disease from.” 

Manes actually laughed, shaking his head. He had a nice laugh, and Michael wished he’d do it more often. “Should write down the bullshit that comes out of your mouth and send it to the tourism board.”

Michael rolled his eyes and continued to flip through the file. “I thought you were alien hunters, not Bigfoot hunters?”

“FBI, not alien hunters,” she reminded him. “And we have bosses who send us on assignment. Besides, we’re not technically looking for Bigfoot,” DeLuca replied. 

“So what  _ are _ we technically looking for?” He asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“In the last six months, four children have gone missing in this area,” DeLuca said. “All under the age of five. The latest to have gone missing is a three year old named Billy Foster.” 

Oh. Oh shit. There were kids involved? He sat up a little straighter, focused. “Think any of them might still be out there?” 

“Another three year old was lost under similar circumstances about a year ago. That time, she was found alive,” Manes said, neither of them giving him shit for not having got that far in the file yet. “She somehow ended up 12 miles from where her parents had last seen her. Up a cliff face.” 

Michael frowned. “Sounds… improbable.” 

“FBI is helping local law enforcement with the investigation,” DeLuca said, nodding. “And with the search and rescue. But we’ll be working independently from those teams.” 

“I do not know why the American government bankrolls this,” Michael said under his breath. Manes arched one of those unfairly perfect eyebrows before opening his mouth for an undoubtedly scathing retort. Michael didn’t let him get it out. “Not that I’m complaining. So what’s our plan? Are we gonna wander around the woods looking for something weird?” 

DeLuca and Manes were sitting on either side of him. So when she pulled out her tablet, bringing up a map of the Silver Falls State Park, both she and Manes leaned into him so they could all see. It was distracting. Michael forced himself to focus on the map. 

“The kids’ last known location?” Michael guessed, pointing at the little red Xs on the map. 

DeLuca nodded. “Billy was lost here.” Maria pointed to a spot within the circle of Xs. “Suspicious that the disappearances are so localized.” 

“Yeah…” Michael let his skepticism drench his voice. “I know that area looks small on the map but it’s still a lot of land to cover.”   
  
“Indeed, but it’s better than having to look throughout the whole state park,” Manes said, his arm brushing against Michael’s as he tilted his coffee cup back for the last few drops. “This here is where the girl was found. Abuts the same area of the other disappearances” Manes continued, pointing at the screen, completely unaware of how hot Michael was feeling all of a sudden.    
  
Michael really, really needed to get laid. Unfortunately between his siblings and these two and their wild goose chases, he really hadn’t had much time to wander down to a bar and try his luck.

“Whatever is going on, the answer is in this patch of land,” Manes said. “It’s like the fucking Bermuda Triangle for kids.”    
  
“Dude.” Michael frowned. “Not cool.” 

Manes shrugged. “Not inaccurate, though.” 

DeLuca shook her head, with a fond smile at Manes. “Look, it could be Bigfoot, bears or--” 

“If I keep hanging out with you guys I’m going to need bear mace,” Michael said under his breath. 

“--Either way,” DeLuca continued, raising her voice a little. “Kids are in danger and we need to put a stop to it.” 

“Yeah, I’m not arguing.” Michael always did have a soft spot for kids. Enough that he was going to ignore how ridiculous the “go out to the woods and wait” plan was.

* * *

They had landed in Portland fairly late and after an hour’s drive to their motel in Silverton, the three of them could do nothing more than crash. No guilt felt. No one was doing search and rescue in the dead of night anyway. Plus, they were meeting their local contacts ridiculously early in the morning. So early that the sun wasn’t even quite up when they filed out of their motel. The sky only just starting to lighten from black to gunmetal.

There was a cafe next to the motel, so before they headed out they decided to fuel up. Alex and Maria waited by the counter for their coffee, “Guerin really likes plants,” Alex commented as he and Maria waited for their coffee in the cozy, warm little cafe with all the homey charm of any small-town establishment. This early it was quiet, and they were the only customers in so Alex took the opportunity to sit at a table while they waited. 

He had a long day of hiking on a prosthetic ahead of him. He was prepared and more than capable but it was going to be exhausting so he’d sit while he still could.

“Hmm?” Maria asked, lifting tired brown eyes away from her phone to look at Alex. He nodded towards Guerin who was looking at some kind of viney planet hanging by the window.

“Just something I’ve noticed,” Alex said quietly. “He watered all the plants at the Andrews’ before we left.” Honestly, if there were plants around, Guerin was usually more interested in them than the case they were working on. Alex had assumed it was just what happened when you brought along a bored skeptic on paranormal investigations but he was starting to think that it was more than that.

Maria hummed softly, smiling speculatively at Alex. He bristled. “Don’t you start.”

“I wasn’t!” She laughed. She was lying but Alex didn’t bother pointing that out. “You’re right. He does seem to like them.” She was looking at Guerin, psychic face on. “Maybe we should get him something for his airstream.”

“You want to get him a gift?” Alex was definitely surprised by that.

“Why not?” Maria shrugged. “Work release gives him an opportunity to reintegrate into society before his sentence is up. It shouldn’t just be about using his skills or reducing his sentence because of good behavior. It should also be about reducing the chance for recidivism. Hobbies will help him succeed.” 

“Donno if any of that is listed in the work release documents,” Alex said dryly. But she was right, and he told her so. Guerin was a non-violent offender and, so far, he seemed to be a pretty decent guy. Alex liked him. Well, as much as he could like anyone he’d known just under two months. But either way, Maria was right. Guerin deserved a chance at a real honest life after all this was over. 

Alex watched Guerin touch one of the plant’s leaves, and he could almost swear that it looked greener, more robust at the touch. Alex frowned, rubbing his eyes. He must be still tired from the flight.

“Alex! Order up!” The barista dragged Alex’s attention away from Guerin. There were three large coffees and egg and cheese bagels waiting for them, and Alex went to grab it with Maria.

They didn’t have time to linger over breakfast, which was probably a good thing because the cafe was starting to fill up with a rather startling number of flannel-clad women, all laughing and joking with each other. Maybe a hiking group?

“Guerin, I don’t have extra hands,” Alex called out, tossing him his bagel and handing over the coffee too. 

Guerin didn’t even snark, taking them both and following Maria and Alex out to the car, taking a deep drink of the near-scalding coffee as they went.

They piled into the car, driving mostly in silence while they ate, up to the North Lodge Group Campground, where they were due to meet local law enforcement.

“Is that who I think it is?” Maria asked as she parked, looking over at Alex with a meddling sort of sparkle in her eyes. 

“... yup.” Alex groaned. Draining the dregs of his coffee. 

“Who?” Guerin asked, curiously. He’d been pretty quiet the whole drive up, just finishing his breakfast and going over the missing person’s report again (honestly, this was as serious as Alex had ever seen Guerin during a case). 

Standing with the locals was none other than Forrest Long. Alex had known this, he’d read the file, but had been surprised nonetheless to see him. Figured that Forrest would have cleared out when they were assigned to the case.

Not that he was  _ mad _ about it. Not mad at all.

“Just an old friend,” Alex said, nonchalantly. No need to air all the details about his colleague-with-benefits, right?

Forrest broke out into a big smile as soon as the three of them approached, walking away from the local police to meet them out by their car.

“I was surprised when I heard you guys were coming,” Forrest said amiably, shaking Maria’s hand. When he shook Alex’s, he held on for a moment longer than necessary, eyes locking with his. It made Alex’s skin tingle where they were touching. “Figured I’d hang around and get the whole story.”

“Missing children are under the FBI purview,” Alex reminded him, composure ironclad.

“Sure, but no one saw any flying saucers, Al,” he laughed warmly. Alex didn’t even roll his eyes. 

“We were assigned,” Maria explained. “You know how it is, no one gets to pick all their own cases.”

“True enough,” Forrest said, with an easy smile. He finally peeled his eyes away from Alex to look over his shoulder at Guerin. “I heard you guys got a C.I.”

“Michael Guerin,” Maria introduced. “This is federal agent Forrest Long.” 

Guerin nodded, reaching to shake his hand, quietly. Not usually one for the pleasantries, anyway.

“So, got any updates on the case?” 

Forrest sighed, looking tired and frustrated. “We found a pair of children's shoes, just neatly set down by a tree. About six miles from where Billy was first reported missing.” He ran a hand through his hair. In the sun, Alex could see Forrest’s customary green highlights, subtle though they were. Alex had always been amazed that Forrest could get away with hair dye. Dress codes and all. 

“Four days ago now.” Alex had to assume that hope of finding him alive was starting to dwindle. Before long this would switch from a rescue mission to a recovery one. They were running out of time. 

“Someone  _ must  _ have taken him but there is nothing to support that theory,” Forrest continued, sounding completely at a loss. “So the rescue mission is still being treated as if the kid is lost. But fuck, it’s like the earth just opened up and swallowed him.”

“Really? No prints? Nothing?” Alex asked.

“Billy, like all the other kids that have gone missing these last couple of months--” Of course he was aware of that. Forrest was smart  _ and  _ thorough, always open to possibilities. “--was lost on a fairly well traveled hiking path. So the only prints are of normal human feet.”

“Har har.” 

Forrest grinned at Alex, warm and a little playful and Alex couldn’t even be mad. “Where were the shoes found?”

Forrest motioned for them to follow, pulled out a map and showed him. “Search and rescue has moved to this area.” Northeast of where the boy was lost, Alex noted. Still within the Bermuda triangle of missing kids.

“They’re using dogs right?”

“Yeah but they keep going off in weird directions,” Forrest said with a frustrated roll of his shoulder. 

“They’re not searching this area to the west of where the shoes were found?” Guerin asked. 

“Nah, the trees are too dense and the terrain’s not great. Not to get you excited but the area gives off a creepy vibe, a kid that’s already scared and lost likely wouldn’t go that way.” Forrest shrugged again. 

“Let me guess,” Maria began, dryly. “This is the weird direction the dogs were going in?”

“Bingo,” Forrest replied. “The helicopter crew can’t see much because of the dense forest but I did check around that area myself. It slopes downward with a lot of big rocks to maneuver over and around. It really does seem improbable for a three year old to get very far going that way.”

Alex didn’t bother reminding him that Billy had already gotten way farther than he should have been able to. Alex glanced at Maria, who looked back at him. They didn’t have to exchange a word to know where they were going to start looking. 

“Guess we’re going to be camping,” Guerin interjected, standing behind them, peeking over Alex’s shoulder at the map. He didn’t sound super excited but also didn’t seem to be complaining, more like preparing for the inevitable unpleasantness. 

“There’s a cabin up there that the rangers sometimes use,” Forrest pointed it out. “But you’re not actually thinking of staying out there? It’s useless to search at night. And according to the locals, the place isn’t exactly welcoming,” Forrest added, carefully, as if worried Alex was going to run away with that. 

Alex probably didn't disappoint when he asked, "Not welcoming how?"

"I donno," Forrest said. Lied. He sighed when Alex arched an eyebrow. "There's reports of weird noises and strange vibes-- he made air quotes with his hands--"and look yeah, it's weird. Rangers aren't exactly the types to be easily scared. But forests are also creepy, especially at night. Probably just lizard brain antics."

“The lizard brain exists for a  _ reason _ , Forrest--” Alex began, laughing. They’d debated this once or twice before.

“As much as I’m sure we’d love to figure out what’s giving everyone the heebie jeebies, Billy’s more important right now. And I’d prefer a real bed, thank you.” Maria interrupted him, her voice dry but her eyes sparkling with humor. Still, she marked the location down on her own map. “But it’s nice to know there’s something there in a pinch.” 

“Well regardless if you guys are considering heading off the beaten path,” Forrest began. “Make sure you're well prepared. We don’t want to add FBI agents to the list of the lost. Actually…” 

Forrest pinched Alex’s sleeve, giving it a light tug. Alex let himself be tugged away from Maria and Guerin, the latter of whom was looking between them and Maria in bewilderment. 

Forrest led Alex towards his SUV, opening up the hatch in the back and digging around for a bag. “I got a bug out bag here you can use. It’s got extra batteries, first aid kit and stuff. Emergency radio, too.”

“You’re acting like we’re going to get lost.”

“We’ve worked on cases together before, Al,” Forrest said fondly. “I know what you and Maria are like when caught up in a case. Last time I was like a nursemaid.”

“You’re exaggerating.” Alex chuckled but he took the bag, gratefully.

“I had to make you eat,” Forrest replied flatly, and Alex couldn’t exactly deny that. But it had been such a damn interesting case. Rarely had Alex had the opportunity to put his hacking training to the test once he got out of the Air Force. But that case had done that and then some. No one was going to convince him he hadn’t been dealing with some very sophisticated AI (maybe even one that had reached singularity). “I’m not saying a con is your best barometer of when to chill out and take a break, but Guerin’s got to be better at recognizing that than you and Maria, so maybe keep that in mind."

That comment dragged Alex back from his thoughts of technological marvels. He threw an incredibly unimpressed look at Forrest. “You say the nicest things to me.” 

“If you want to hear nice things,” Forrest said, smiling now, stepping further stepping in Alex’s space. “We should meet up before you guys leave town.”

Alex smiled, glancing back at Guerin and Maria who were looking at the map, talking. “If we have time. I’d like that.” 

* * *

Once they’d finished with Forrest and the locals, Maria, Alex, and Guerin jumped back in the rental, following Forrest’s directions to get them as close as possible on a road before they headed out the rest of the way on foot.

As they got out of the car and grabbed their gear, Alex nudged Maria, nodding down to one of the trails, where they could see the same group of women they’d run into back at the cafe. “Kid’s still missing and people are already back out on the trails.”

“The one we’re going on is closed, remember.” Maria pointed out, eyes lingering on the group for a minute. Alex glanced their way again, trying to see which one was piquing Maria’s interest. As if. Alex could never figure out her taste in women. 

“Still strange,” she conceded. “You’d think people would be spooked.”

“Nah,” Guerin said, shrugging. “That’s an awful lot of flannel to choke down, even for Bigfoot.”

Alex groaned and turned to lock the car. “Come on, let’s get moving.”

The hike out was spectacular. Lush green forest, creeks widening to rivers, slipping into falls. It was easy to get distracted by it all.

“Ok,” Guerin said after about twenty minutes of hiking. “This place is gorgeous.” He’d been so quiet during their hike that a few times Maria had turned around to make sure he was still behind them. She’d catch him touching a tree or staring intently at a mushroom or flower. He felt almost overwhelmed, like he was focusing on the details in order not to get lost in the sheer enormity of the forest, the seeming impossibility of their task. Alex got that feeling to him sometimes, when he was hacking or when he was working with code. 

“Yeah,” Alex agreed. “Totally different from the desert. First time you’ve been out this way?” 

“Yeah.” Even the way Guerin spoke was a little more hushed, almost reverent in a way. Maria thought back to Alex’s observation that morning and decided that she would definitely be getting Guerin some plants for his airstream. But for the moment, she took advantage of the pause to double check the map.

“This is where the boy’s sneakers were found,” Maria spoke up. 

Despite what Forrest had said about this area being well traveled, the shoes had been found quite far from the actual trail. Alex, picking up on that as well, started to look around for clues. 

“You know,” Guerin said after a few minutes of silence, frowning. “Kids aren’t as dumb as people think they are and they’re pretty vocal about things they don’t like or are scared of. So whatever took Billy, he probably didn’t initially feel threatened by.” 

Guerin had quickly accepted the working theory that Billy was kidnapped. It was the most logical theory, even with the absence of evidence to support it. 

“Ok, true,” Maria said. “But the speed at which the children disappeared doesn’t square with the idea that the kids were lured away. That takes time, and none of the parents indicated that their kids were interested in anything strange or that someone weird was hanging around.” 

Guerin nodded though his aura darkened. “What if the parents were lying?” 

It was Alex who answered, voice hard. “Entirely possible. Who’s going to admit to not paying attention to their kid?”

They were both right. Maria regretted not having the time to interview the parents herself. 

Guerin pulled off his hat with one hand, dragged his other through his curls. “Yeah,” he said, tightly. “Either way we gotta find him.”

“We will,” Maria said. “Alex and I are actually quite good at finding missing people.” They had a 100% track record thanks to a combination of good detective work (or tracking skills if in wood areas) and Maria’s own intuition. The answer seemed to relax Guerin just a little, even if Maria didn’t think he entirely believed her. Or let himself anyway. 

“Then let’s get to it,” Guerin said, determined. No skepticism at all in the face of such a declaration. That was a first. “Where do we start?” 

“Well we’re in one of the right places.” Alex said. “Forrest’s competent but he really should have forced them to let dogs keep going in this direction like they wanted. Keep your eyes peeled -- broken branches, footprints, clothing fibers, hair. Anything that doesn’t look natural, all right?” Smiling at Maria softly, Alex started heading down into the dense forest.

Guerin nodded. “Got it,” he said, and headed in behind him.

Forrest hadn’t been kidding about the difficulty of the terrain. Maria was suddenly very thankful for all the conditioning exercises Alex forced them both to do. But even so, she did keep one eye on Alex. He was being stubborn and self conscious because of Guerin, not using his walking poles. 

It was dumb. But Alex knew his limits best. She wasn’t going to argue. 

Maria took a breath and exhaled slowly, letting her awareness spread out around her. She didn’t exactly have the words for her… intuition? Abilities? None of the words seemed to fit or if they did (like psychic, which Alex liked to use), they tended to sound a bit hokey, even for someone in her line of work. But there was no doubt that she could sense things--lies, truths, feelings. She could always sense people around her because of the latter. Even the most mild human feelings were clearly broadcasted, and she was like a radio passively picking up the signals. 

But it was difficult to pick up other people in a vast forest. She was honestly used to cities or towns, buzzing with human emotion. But out there it was just Guerin--his distress, worry, frustration, somehow he was too close to this case--and Alex--focused mostly except for the slight tinge of arousal. Forrest’s fault, no doubt.

They walked for a while. Guerin’s frustration was more and more distracting the longer they went without finding anything concrete. Eventually she had to stop, catching his arm while Alex moved on ahead. “Hey.” 

Impatience. Frustration. “Yeah?” 

“It’s okay. It might take some time, but we’re not giving up here.” Not for the first time, she wished she had the power to nudge emotions. Not a lot, just a little. Just to help ease his stress a little But she couldn’t, so she had to do this the old fashioned way.

Guerin’s jaw flexed a little, tight. Fighting to relax. “I know.”

She squeezed his arm, trying to offer comfort or maybe even a little stability. “Getting frustrated won’t help Billy at all,” she added gently. “Gotta keep a clear head.”

“It’s hard when all we’re doing is wandering around!” Guerin said. “We didn’t even bring a dog with us or something.”

“I know it’s hard,” she said, squeezing his arm again, rubbing just a little. “But every little bit helps. And I promise, Alex and I, we’re good at this. You just have to stop tying yourself up in knots. It’s distracting.”

“You sound like... like Bella,” he said, a little dryly. Almost sounding like himself, starting to walk again.

“Oh yeah?” Maria asked, grinning.

“Yeah,” Guerin said, then paused as if weighing something in his mind. “She says I think too loudly.”

“She’s not wrong,” Maria laughed. “You’re like -  _ broadcasting _ distress.”

Guerin paused to look at her, bemused, like he was trying to reconcile something about her, something that… seemed strange to him about her? Now she tilted her head at him, curious and confused, wanting to know exactly what he was thinking. 

Instead he shook his head and frowned. “Adults just shouldn’t fail kids. It pisses me off.” 

Oh right. Foster kid. 

(God, she really misread him entirely right there. Again.)

Instead of responding, and maybe saying the wrong thing  _ again,  _ Maria just nodded, and gave his arm another reassuring squeeze. 

Just then they came across a stream. Alex made a sound of approval and moved towards the other side of the stream. “Bigfoot,” he said.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Guerin definitely growled. All that calm Maria had brought about burning up almost instantly. “This kid is either lost or more likely has been stolen by some psychopath and you’re bring up fucking Bigfoot like some kind of nut job?”

Alex glared at him. “No asshole. Big _. _ Foot.” He pointed down at the ground. “That’s a big fucking foot print.” 

And it was. Bigger than Alex’s size 13s. 

“I cannot believe it,” Guerin breathed, looking down at the big print on the ground. He stared for a minute before he almost physically shook off the credulity. “Probably just some meth head out for a walk in the woods. A... really big meth head,” he admitted, grudgingly.

Maria rolled her eyes. “What is with you and meth heads?"

Guerin just shrugged, but his mood darkened a little; in memory, Maria guessed. She kept tripping over them, it seemed. 

“Well you’re right about one thing,” Maria said, deciding it was best to move back to safer topics. “That’s a shoe print.”

“And it’s fresh,” Alex said, squatting down to take a better look at it. “This area is cordoned off right?”

“Yeah,” Maria agreed. “Though it is close-ish to that--”

A loud sharp whistle cut her off. All three of them jerked their heads up, looking towards the direction of the whistle came from. And there, by a tree….

“No way…” Guerin breathed.

It was hard to see but there was someone-- _ something _ \--peering out from around a tree. A tall someone. Even from this distance, she could tell they were at least a foot taller than Guerin. Maybe more. But she couldn’t make out a face, just a lot of hair and vaguely human looking eyes. She could see an impossibly large hand holding the trunk of the tree too, connected to a hairy looking arm.

“FBI!” Alex called out, making his way towards the figure which disappeared into the tree line. Fast. Something that big should not move so quickly.

They hurried towards the creature’s last known location, finding nothing but another impossibly large footprint. 

“God damnit,” Alex said under his breath.

“So like I don’t remember any of the stories saying anything about Bigfoot wearing shoes,” Michael said, poking at one of the imprints in the dirt.

“Shoes were invented forty thousand years ago, Guerin.” Alex ignored Guerin’s indignant scoff, as he was already looking for more tracks to follow--another foot print or a broken branch--when they heard another whistle. But this one came from their right.

“No way it could move that fast around us,” Alex said standing up.

A whistle. And then an answering one. Well that answered that.

“See anything?” Maria asked. Both Alex and Guerin shook their heads. But Maria was starting to pick up a broadcast and she motioned for them to follow, moving slowly towards the thicker portions of the trees.

“Are you sure?” Guerin asked warily.

“Call it woman’s intuition,” Maria said quietly. “Now hush.”

They kept moving quietly. Maria ahead of them, walking a little faster. They didn’t hear any more whistles but the forest felt more dangerous than it had before. Every rustle of the leaves, the movement of shadow and light, it was all creepier now. A few times Maria thought she saw movement.

But that was a good thing. The closer they were, the easier they were for her to pick up. 

She started heading left, back across the stream towards an even denser patch of wood, trying to tune the frequency, so to speak. It was hard to pick up a presence. They weren’t  _ that  _ close, whoever they were, and the trees still blocked the signal. Guerin’s spike in worry added interference, like when two radio stations are picked up at the same time, causing static. She wasn’t used to him yet, it was hard to focus around him. But she focused through it, using Alex’s familiar mind to help her block Guerin. She walked--adjusting the antenna--until the broadcast started to get clearer.

They heard at least two more sharp whistles. Then there was a rustling in the trees again, maybe ten or fifteen yards away she guessed. She turned that way. 

There was a loud cracking sound behind her.

“Maria!” 

* * *

“Are you ok?” Manes demanded hurrying over to DeLuca who was sprawled on the ground, staring, stunned, at the large tree that had almost crushed her.

Michael exhaled loudly. Fuck. That was close. That was so close. The tree had been huge and falling fast. DeLuca had tried to get out of the way but hadn’t been fast enough. Michael just acted without thought, pushing the tree away from her. With too much force, he thought. It landed a little too far for the trajectory to be plausible. 

Michael’s heart was beating a mile a minute. Shit.  _ Shit. _

“Yeah…” DeLuca breathed, letting Manes help her up. They immediately zeroed in on the tree.

“Something’s not right,” Manes said, squeezing DeLuca’s hand once more before pulling away to examine the tree. DeLuca in step. Michael would be impressed by how fearless and focused they were if he didn’t feel like he was going to throw up (and not from the use of power).

“Yeah this wasn’t natural,” DeLuca agreed and Michael considered running. “This tree was cut.” 

“Oh thank fuck,” Michael breathed, relieved, causing both DeLuca and Manes to look at him, frowning. 

“What?” He said, quickly. “Cut means people, right? Not Bigfoot.” 

“I’m not sure that’s  _ better _ , people usually mean guns,” Manes pointed out, and cut off as another whistle echoed through the trees. Going on high alert, his gun in his hand. 

Damnit, why didn’t  _ Michael _ get a gun? Prejudice was gonna get him killed here.

“See anything?” DeLuca asked Manes, her own gun in her hand, too. The two of them scanning the forest like a well oiled military machine, and Michael was fucking out of his depth.

“Nothing,” he murmured. “We’re on the right track though. We have to be.” 

“We go slow.” DeLuca nodded. 

Michael wanted to protest, but there was still a little kid out here and he’d be damned if any of them would abandon him.

They pressed on, and Michael could swear that the forest got darker, more oppressive as they did. 

There were still the occasional whistles but no more signs of the…  _ attackers _ . But DeLuca and Manes, the absolute madmen, seemed to be moving inexplicably towards them, orienting themselves so that between the two of them, they could see 360 degrees around them. 

More trees fell. None as close as the first one. But Michael still would nudge them a little further out of the way, just to be sure. The stress of the situation and the effort to be so subtle and precise with his powers was starting to give him a headache. 

Eventually, DeLuca stopped, frowning. “We’re being herded.” 

“Seriously?” Michael breathed out. Well that explained the fact that his hair had been standing on end for the better part of an hour.

“Trees fall every time we get close….” DeLuca sounded distracted, frowning into the tree line. Her behavior was odd but Michael couldn’t quite put his finger on what. But it was just like when he watched her during interviews, like she was listening intently for something. Like how dogs could hear higher frequencies than humans. Like how Iz could just tell when he or Max were hurting.

“Shit,” Manes said softly. Not at all questioning her statement. Neither did Michael, even though he could not see how they were being herded. He could see no pattern in the whistling or the falling trees. “And it’s getting dark.” 

“Strategic retreat?” 

DeLuca pulled out the map while Michael and Manes kept their eyes on the tree line. Ready to act if anything moved or if there were any more whistles. 

“Car’s too far to get back to,” she said. “Cabin’s up ahead.” Her expression darkened, looking at Manes. And it took Michael an embarrassingly long moment to figure out why. Were they being herded there? Was that deliberate?

“Any port in a storm,” Manes finally grit out, nodding, but his hand tightened on the grip of his service weapon. 

“Hopefully whoever’s fucking with us will get tired,” Michael said, as dryly as he could manage. 

Thankfully, neither Manes or DeLuca commented on the stupidity of such a statement. They just grimmly set out for the cabin, noting when they could even hear birds again. No more whistles. 

This was creepy as hell. Michael found himself strongly hoping that the cabin wasn’t a trap. He’d be glad for some cover overnight. Not that he expected to be able to sleep properly.

As Michael expected, the damn cabin was locked when they found it. But Michael dealt with that easily before the agents even reached the doorknob. They had hurried in, Michael following DeLuca inside while Manes stood guard by the entrance. Thankfully Long had included flashlights in the bag he gave them. Once they had confirmed that the cabin was empty and not covered in bloody hooks and human skin furniture, Manes stepped in and shut the door behind them.

The ranger’s cabin was barely that. Basically a small room, a table and a bed that might fit two if they were familiar. There were propane lanterns and some canned foods and shelf-stable snacks in the cupboards. But it was dry, and mostly importantly for their situation: it had walls and had a  _ fucking _ door and no damn windows.

With the propane lamps going, Manes investigated the room with the critical eye of a soldier, while Michael lamented the flimsy lock on the door, even as he slid the bolt back in place. 

“It’s defensible,” Manes said, looking at the windowless walls, expression still as grim as ever.

“But we’re blind,” DeLuca said, filling in the ‘but’ Manes left hanging in the air. Manes didn’t answer. Michael for once found he had nothing smart to say. 

That fucking whistling suddenly punctuated the silence, much louder than before, followed by a sharp thud against the door, the whole cabin shaking a little. 

“ _ Fuck _ .” Michael practically jumped out of his skin. Only mildly reassured by Manes and Deluca standing by, and a little in front of him, both of them with their guns drawn and ready. The door shuddered again, twisting on its hinges, and Michael clenched his teeth, shoring it up with his power as subtly as he could manage.

It didn’t let up. Whatever...  _ Whoever _ was out there, was now pacing around the cabin, whistling.  _ Tapping.  _ And periodically the walls would shudder again. 

“Guerin wake up!” DeLuca was pushing him, gesturing to the bed. “Barricade the door.” Michael cursed under his breath, having to let go of the door so he could help her move the bed up against the it.

“Well. Now we’re fucking trapped,” he said, dryly. 

Stupid. They’ve been trapped. This whole situation was so fucking creepy it was making him stupid. 

Another hard slam against the door, and the bed scrapped against the floor, inward, just a little. Enough. 

Fuck. He pushed the bed back then wrapped his power around it, and held it in place, as firm as he possibly could. DeLuca and Manes were talking as they paced the cabin, like a couple of big cats in an enclosure. 

When the next thump came, Michael felt it almost like a physical blow. He was surprised his feet didn’t scrape across the ground from the force of it. Originally, he’d thought they were throwing their bodies against the door but this was more than that. What the fuck where they throwing? Were they using a fucking catapult?

“Maybe we should open the door during a lull,” Manes suggested. 

_ Tap. Tap. Tap. _

He gritted his teeth. Angry. “Face them.” 

They could hear the scrape of nails across the wood of the cabin walls. Trying to find purchase in the slots. A weakness in the walls.Thankfully, the cabin was fairly well built as far as Michael could tell. But he was ready to reinforce whatever needed reinforcing. Ignoring the building headache. 

“The door looks like it’s holding,” DeLuca said, calmly. “We won’t know what we’ll find out there.” She glanced at her watch. “The sun’s likely down by now too. Whoever we’re up against knows the terrain. Dark’s got us at a disadvantage.” 

Manes grunted. Unhappy but conceding the point. There weren’t many good choices, particularly not at night.

“We could radio Forrest? Get some backup?” DeLuca asked. 

Manes rummaged in the bug-out bag, pulling out the radio, and switching it on. Michael could hear static. Then Manes’ voice as he tried several calls out.

Either no one was listening or the message just didn’t get through.

That fucking tapping continued, interspersed by thunderous attempts to break down the door or the walls. 

It was absolutely the longest damn night Michael’d ever spent, and that included the night he’d spent when he was eight, back before he knew much at all about this world, hiding under a neighbor’s trailer from his drunk foster dad.

Neither time had been all night. They had just felt that way. Like an eternity. Back then, his foster dad had eventually slunk back into his trailer, angry and looking for someone else to take it out on. Michael had run away the second things had gotten quiet enough that he could. Only to be snatched up again and thrown back into the system.

Michael shook off the memories. His mind couldn’t wander, even if the thudding and tapping had stopped eventually, just like the rage had. It wasn’t safe. Not yet.

“I think it’s gone,” Manes said, softly. It’d been at least an hour since they’d heard anything. 

As if Manes’ statement gave him permission to relax, Michael felt his control over his powers slipping, unwrapping from the bedframe and the door. Almost the minute it did, he could feel bone-deep exhaustion settling over him, along with a wave of nausea rolling up from his toes and up out his mouth. Newton’s third law, an equal and opposite reaction. In this case, his stomach turning itself inside out and what felt like every nerve burning. He only barely managed to stumble to the corner of the cabin before losing it.

Fuck. It’d been so long since he’d pushed himself anywhere near that hard. He’d forgotten how bad it was. 

He distantly heard DeLuca and Manes talking, though he couldn’t tell (and didn’t care) if it was to each other or to him. He couldn’t do much but rest his forehead against the wall and try to breathe. 

* * *

“We should get sleep if we can. Before...” Alex broke off, both of them staring at Guerin, who’d gone pale, stumbled away a few steps and retched in the corner of the cabin like he was trying to bring up every meal from the last five years. 

Thankfully there wasn’t much to bring up, considering it’d been hours since they’d eaten, but still, not for the first time since getting to the cabin, Alex wished for a window. 

They both stared at him for a few moments, surprised. “Didn’t figure Guerin for a weak stomach,” Maria murmured. 

“Me neither,” Alex agreed, going to grab a bottle of water, while Maria checked on him.

“Guerin?” She asked quietly, rubbing his arm gently. No response. Guerin looked like shit. Pale, sweaty. 

“Panic attack?” Alex asked, frowning. 

Maria shook her head, a little helplessly. “Doesn’t feel like that. Not exactly,” she said softly. She let Guerin breathe for a couple more minutes, before tugging at him. “Come on Guerin,” she said softly. And when he didn’t move, she wrapped her arm around his waist, firmly pulling. He let himself be led, thankfully.

Alex, anticipating her, grabbed the blanket off the bed, so she could ease him down into it. Quietly, they got him to lay down, tucked him in. Guerin curled up onto his side, sweaty face pressed against the pillow. 

Maria hummed softly, rubbing Guerin’s arm as she sat on the edge of the bed with him. “Gue..” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “Hey Michael?”

Yeah. Maybe they  _ were _ on a first-name footing now. 

Michael’s eyes fluttered open, looking at her from under those ridiculously long lashes, and Alex felt a tightness in his chest, that he hadn’t noticed before, loosen.

“We’re going to get some sleep, okay? Here with you?” She hesitated before sweeping the damp curls from his forehead, carding his hair back and out of his face. 

Michael made a soft noise of affirmation, nodding a little.

“That’s not a good idea...” Alex said, frowning. The bed was right up against the damn door. Honestly Guerin shouldn’t be there, either. But watching him lay there, looking small and vulnerable, breath too fast, too heavy, Alex couldn’t find it in him to press the issue. There was no way Alex was going to kick him out of bed in that state.

Maria looked up at him, shrugging a little. “We need sleep. Besides. The more bodies on the bed the harder it is to shift. And if they’re going through the walls, they can do that with any of them.”

It was hard to argue with that logic. “Bed’s kind of small,” Alex noted. Not that he was complaining. On the contrary, he climbed onto it, shoes on and gun in hand. He took the spot closest to the door, so that Maria could take the spot between him and Guerin. Just in case. At least this way, no one could somehow get the door open without them noticing.

Alex didn’t expect to do much sleeping tonight anyway. Too wired. This situation was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. And sure the novelty was what he enjoyed about the job but this situation still freaked him the fuck out to a level he did not care for.

“Watch your elbows.” He couldn’t help but tease Maria, who rolled her eyes and flipped him off before climbing into her spot and tucking the blanket around her and Guerin. It was a tight fit, all three of them pressed up against each other.

It was so quiet now. The only sound Guerin--Michael’s harsh breathing. He almost seemed in pain honestly and Alex wracked his brain for any instance in which he might have eaten a strange berry or drank water from a stream. But he hadn’t. So it had to be the stress of the situation. 

Alex was suddenly hit with a flash of guilt. They’d been dragging Michael all over the place, without much concern for his feelings. Sure, he was a con, but he was a nonviolent one. He didn’t have Alex and Maria’s military training. As far as Alex and Maria could tell, short of the surprising knack for theft, Guerin was basically just a civilian. A decent guy.

Maybe bringing him along on these jobs wasn’t fair. 

Maria shifted slightly and Alex caught sight of her wrapping her arm around Michael's chest, holding him protectively. It did seem to help Michael relax a little, he wasn’t so tight and tense. But he still looked too pale, and Alex did not like that. He rested his back against the wall that abutted the door and reached over, carding his fingers through Michael’s sweaty curls, absently thinking that it might help soothe him a little more.

He felt like an ass for noting how soft and nice they were to the touch. Like he always knew they would be. 

He stayed up for a long time, his fingers gently petting Michael’s hair, listening to the forest. Quiet now. Well, not quiet, but normal. The crickets building up a symphony, the occasional hoot of an owl. Alex let another thirty minute pass before deciding to take a chance and switch out his gross and sweaty prosthetic liner for a fresh one, drying the stump as best he could before getting everything back in place. He wouldn’t go without it. Not tonight. 

Alex continued to stand watch after getting himself back together. But eventually, as the quiet hum of the forest continued unbroken, he found his body unwinding, the tension easing out of him. He slouched down on the bed more and more, leaning into the warmth of Maria’s body, wrapping his arm around her, fingers brushing over Guerin’s back, appreciating how warm he was, too.

He’d been in enough war zones to know what safe felt like, and they were safe enough, at least for now, for him to drift off to sleep, tucking both Maria and Michael close to him.


End file.
